


An Unlikely Alliance

by Ec1aire



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Blood and Torture, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Love, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Female Ranger, Hair Braiding, Hobbit Movie AU, Kili is a dork, Original Character(s), Thorin Isn't Always an Asshole, Young Aragorn, human original character, magic rings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-17 18:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 114,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ec1aire/pseuds/Ec1aire
Summary: Being a dúnedain Ranger, Alana knew all about the dangers of the wild. She had lived with them for years. When Gandalf informed her of a quest to reclaim a lost homeland, she jumped at the chance of meeting people who might just understand the weight she carried on her shoulders. Besides, Alana had never been one to back down from a challenge, no matter how suicidal. And Gandalf's quests always turned out to be the best ones. Thorin/OFC





	1. A New Arrival

Wind whipped around a tall, shadowed figure as they silently followed a prowling party of orcs. The recurve bow in the figure's hand had a white-feathered arrow notched against the string, the hand that was holding it growing tenser with every second that passed. The shadow moved from tree to tree, tracking its prey.

Orcs were not smart creatures. They were soldiers and servants – it was rare that an orc had the mental capacity to give out orders. But this group moved with a purpose, and by the way they panted and walked with an unusual heaviness to their limbs, the figure deduced they had not stopped for rest in at least a day.

They were after something. Or someone.

It was an hour or so past sundown when the orc party came into view of the small, human town of Bree. They hid behind tree trunks and in bushes, three on either side of the dirt track. Waiting. To know the plans of an orc pack was always a beneficial thing, and so the cloaked figure hiding above their heads waited too.

Five minutes passed.

At last, there was the movement of a shadow beneath the doorway leading into the small town. It opened with a quiet squeak. Out stepped a small figure – small being short, not thin, so most likely a dwarf – who had a fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders and a hood that protected his face from the lashing rain. It also kept him shrouded in shadow.

The figure in the trees glanced down, sensing that the orcs were stirring.

The group exchanged glances as the dwarf walked past, before moving to ambush him. The cloaked shadow finally reacted. Releasing the arrow that had been prepared and smirking as it buried itself in the forehead of one of the orcs, the figure quickly jumped from the branches and into view of the equally startled dwarf and orcs. After releasing another arrow and killing a second orc, the two cloaked figures both drew their swords. The dwarf's was a broadsword – strong and thick. The blade the other figure drew was far more delicate and thin, but equally as dangerous when wielded by the right hand. This blade was of elvish make, and was glowing blue in the darkness.

Working efficiently together to slay the last four orcs, the temporary allies then turned to one another. Neither lowered their hoods, nor sheathed their blades for a few tense seconds. Then, the dwarf revealed himself. A mane of damp, black hair framed his face, though there were a few streaks of grey and silver that seemed to shine in the pale moonlight. His eyes were a stormy grey, harsh and icy, and hinted of memories that would crush the soul of most. Yet the way he held himself was regal and proud.

The other figure remained still, refusing to lower their hood. The dwarf grunted. "I believe I owe you thanks, stranger," he said gruffly. "I am in your debt."

He was visibly surprised when he heard the response of the cloaked figure. "You owe me nothing, Thorin Oakenshield." It was not only the words the figure spoke, but also the voice that spoke them. It was a female. Throwing back her hood, the woman revealed herself. Long, wavy black hair and blue eyes, coupled with a young face with pale skin was what met the gaze of Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. The woman stood at 6'2", over a foot taller than him.

Thorin's grip on his sword tightened. "How do you know who I am?" he demanded, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Unperturbed, the woman smiled knowingly, blinking as a stray raindrop fell onto her eyelashes. "I had been tracking those orcs for many hours. They were waiting for you."

"That doesn't explain how you know my name," Thorin growled. "Who are you?"

The woman bowed. "My name is Alana, my lord. I am a dúnedain Ranger. The lands surrounding the Blue Mountains are under the protection of my people, particularly the Shire, and so it is my job to pay attention to any news that comes from within those borders. Your name is hardly an unknown one in these parts, even if most do not know your face."

Thorin sighed and – very hesitantly – sheathed his sword. After a moment, Alana did the same with hers. "Well, regardless, you have my thanks for your aid."

Alana glanced at Bree. "You didn't happen to meet with Mithrandir while you were here, did you?" At Thorin's blank look, she elaborated. "Tharkûn, as you would probably know him. Or perhaps Gandalf is more familiar to you, given that you live so close to those that call him thus."

Thorin huffed and nodded his head, before pulling up his hood. "He should still be at the inn. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.

"Of course. Thank you for the information." Alana dipped her head into a bow again and watched as Thorin walked away calmly. She then turned towards Bree, which was, incidentally, her destination. Well, Mithrandir was who she was meeting, whether in Bree or not. The fact that the orcs she had been tracking had come here was little more than happy chance.

After a brief chat with the gate guard, Alana slipped into the town, pulling up her hood again. She walked silently through the town, trying to ignore the probing, distrustful looks she was receiving from the locals, and stepped into the inn – The Prancing Pony. Scrunching up her nose at the scent of stale sweat and beer, she made her way to a figure cloaked entirely in grey. She sat herself opposite him, her back facing a roaring hearth, before finally lowering her hood and shaking out her soaked hair.

Gandalf looked surprised, but ultimately pleased to see her. "Ah, my dear Alana. It has been a long time, and I must admit, I expected it to be longer."

"Well, you know me, Mithrandir; I like surprising people," Alana said with a grin. She rested her elbows on the table top, leaning forward. "So, what reason could you possibly have for summoning me? I know it is no mere errand, or you would not be involved, and you most certainly wouldn't have invited me to come along."

Gandalf chuckled. "I am about to embark on a quest with a company of dwarves, and a hobbit, with luck, to reclaim Erebor."

Alana raised an eyebrow. "At least that explains Oakenshield's presence in such a place."

"You saw him?"

Alana nodded, indicating to the waitress near her to bring her a small plate of food. "He and I ran into each other when we encountered some orcs on the other side of the gates," she informed him with a nonchalant shrug. "He thanked me for my help and then left. It seemed like he had somewhere to be in a hurry."

Gandalf nodded. "Yes, well, Thorin would be the leader of our little party. I wish to invite you along."

Alana leaned back in chair as the waitress placed her plate of bread and cheese in front of her. "I very much doubt that dwarf will want me to accompany him on this quest of his. First of all, I'm a woman, and the fact that I am a Ranger will make no difference to him on that account. Second, however distantly, I am a descendant of elves. Thorin Oakenshield has a hatred of elves that is legendary."

Rolling his eyes, the grey wizard took a sip of the red wine in front of him. "A little hardship has never put you off before, my dear."

Alana scoffed. "It most certainly has not, and it shan't do now. I was merely curious as to why you chose me, of all people. There are many others who would do the job just as well, if not better. People whom Thorin would be far more likely to accept into his company without a fight to the death beforehand."

Gandalf smirked knowingly to himself, but said nothing. "In a week's time, I want you to meet me in Hobbiton, at night. You will know where I'll be."

Alana sighed at his characteristic elusiveness, but nonetheless nodded. "As you wish." She paused, her eyes glancing around. "Have you seen Estel recently?" she asked with a lowered voice. "Do you know how he is?"

Gandalf nodded. "Estel is in good spirits and is as healthy as ever, though he misses you terribly. I know you have been busy, but it is about time you returned to Rivendell, don't you think?"

Alana nodded and smiled, picking up a slice of cheese and eating it with a large chunk of bread. "No doubt this quest will take us close by. Perhaps I will find the time to see him then."

"I'm sure you will make time, my dear." The wizard's eyes were twinkling. "After all, I am sure that you miss your little brother as much as he misses you."

* * *

Alana grumbled under her breath for the umpteenth time as she and her horse meandered through the little hobbit town. Gandalf could have given her more details – she knew she had to be in Hobbiton, but not which house she was looking for. Alana had been searching for the best part of an hour for some sort of sign as to where the wizard could be. Eluviel, her sixteen-hand mare, snorted, chewing on her bit as Alana gently tugged on her reins and directed her up a small hill.

A large looking house – large in the standards of hobbits, that was – was sat elegantly on the top of the hill, white smoke rising from the chimney. If the glowing blue mark on the door was not a good enough sign, the loud guffaws of the house's inhabitants would have been more than enough to convince her that she'd finally found the right place. Hobbits could never make that much noise, except in the Green Dragon Inn, but that was a mile or so away.

After tying Eluviel's reins to the fence surrounding the house's garden, and patting her gently on the nose, Alana walked up the steps and knocked on the green door three times. A strange hush fell over the group on the other side.

A finely dressed hobbit met her gaze as the door was opened. He seemed irritated, but even more so when he saw her. Alana sent him an understanding smile, before her gaze flickered to the gathering of dwarves behind him, and, behind even that, to a smiling Gandalf.

"You couldn't have given me a more precise address, could you, Mithrandir?" she asked after the hobbit silently invited her in, his face set with resignation. "It took me around an hour to find this place, with no clue what I was really looking for. I was close to giving up."

She pulled her thick cloak off her shoulders and draped it over a hook on the rack to her left, where many other coats and cloaks were already hanging. Alana gazed down at the group stood in front of her. They were quite the gathering, that was for certain; a wide range in age, hair colour, you name it. There was a dwarf in a strange but quirky hat, and another stood just to his left with an axe shard in his forehead.

A strange group, indeed.

As she broke herself from her musings, Alana became aware of a familiar form stepping forwards. "What are you doing here?" a rather perturbed Thorin Oakenshield demanded, a hint of a sneer on his face.

"Gandalf invited me to be here," Alana replied evenly, not backing down to his glare.

Thorin turned his sharp gaze to the wizard as he stepped forward – almost crashing his head on the low ceiling as he did. "Is this true?"

Gandalf nodded. "It is. Alana is a dear friend of mine. Her help will no doubt be needed at some point on this quest – she has a great knowledge of the wild lands to the east."

"She is a woman," Thorin scoffed, and Alana rolled her eyes at his predictable comment. "A quest like this is no place for a woman."

"I hate to interrupt," Alana said calmly, and Thorin whirled on her once more, "but I believe you already know I can handle myself in battle. I have travelled and lived in the wild for the last eight years of my life." She paused. "And as I have already informed you, I am a Ranger of the North; I have much experience with everything you are likely to encounter on this quest."

"You are of the dúnedain, then?" a young, blonde dwarf asked curiously. Actually, he was the only blonde dwarf among them all.

Alana nodded. "I am indeed, Master Dwarf." She turned to Thorin. "So, do I have your permission to be a part of this quest?"

Thorin looked extremely doubtful, even with both her and Gandalf's assurances. It took many long seconds, but eventually he let out a long breath. "Very well. But I will not be responsible for anything that happens to you."

Alana huffed. "I can look after myself, so that is no issue."

With a stiff nod, Thorin led the dwarf party into the next room. When Alana ducked into the room – which seemed to be a dining room – she found there were no seats left, so instead leaned against a wall, not really listening as they conversed about their quest. Every now and then she'd pick up a name or two, but unfortunately it was less than adequate.

Someone gently poked her arm. Glancing down, Alana met the curious and mildly embarrassed gaze of the young hobbit. He smiled up at her. "Bilbo Baggins," he said politely. "It's nice to meet you. I'm terribly sorry for my less-than-warm welcome."

"It is nice to meet you, too, Master Baggins," Alana responded, accepting the hand he held out for her to shake. "I am Alana. And given the circumstances, I can understand your frustration, and do not blame you for it." Bilbo smiled, before sighing and letting his gaze sweep over the dwarves. "I'm guessing you didn't know they were coming?" Alana asked with amusement in her voice.

Bilbo shook his head. "No. I thought it would just be an ordinary day when I woke up this morning. Then Gandalf showed up and–"

Alana's laugh interrupted what he was going to say. "If Gandalf shows up, it's never going to be a normal day."

It was only then that she realised her laugh had drawn the attention of the dwarves. "What makes you say that, lass?" the dwarf with the strange hat asked.

Alana smirked. "I can hardly recall a time when I was with Gandalf when I wasn't either on some exciting or dangerous adventure (mostly both), or talking about going on one. It seems the old man can't get enough of them."

A few of the dwarves chuckled. The one with the hat spoke again, grinning crookedly at her. "The name's Bofur, lassie."

"Alana," she replied. That caused the whole company to start introducing themselves. Alana was somewhat overwhelmed by the abundance of information she was receiving, but at least she prided herself at being good with names. Bofur, Bombur, Bifur, Gloin, Oin, Nori, Dori, Ori, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Balin and, of course, Thorin.

It amused her greatly that most of the dwarves introduced themselves with a hearty "at your service". They seemed like an extraordinarily merry and light-hearted group, though Alana wondered how long that would last.

"So, lass," Bofur began cheerfully, "what can you tell us about yourself?"

Alana stiffened a little, but tried not to show it. "There's not much to tell. I'm twenty-five – don't bother saying anything about that – and have been on my own for what seem like a very long time."

"What've you been doing all that time?" asked Gloin with a frown.

"Hunting orcs and goblins, mostly," Alana answered, getting uncomfortable with the direction this currently short conversation was going.

"Orcs?!"

"Goblins?!"

"Do you have a death wish, lassie?" Dori asked with a deep frown.

Alana smirked. "As you can see, Master Dori, I do not. If I had a death wish, I would not be here."

"How long have you been a Ranger?" Fili leaned forward on the table so as to hear her reply better.

"I was born into the group, so you could say all my life. However, I didn't start my training until I was eight." She shrugged. "Technically then, seventeen years."

Many of the dwarves seemed surprised to hear this. "You were training with weapons from the age of eight?" Dwalin demanded.

"Real weapons," Alana said with a curt nod. "I had been using wooden ones since I was five."

A few murmurs went over the group as they discussed what to make of this. During that time, Alana managed to sneak over to Gandalf. "Why are we here, of all places, Mithrandir? Why Bilbo?"

Gandalf's reply was equally quiet. "He is to be our burglar."

Alana glanced over the hobbit, who looked positively terrified. "Burglar of what?" But Gandalf didn't reply, so with a shake of her head, she muttered, "I hope you know what you're doing."

Nodding, Gandalf sent her a wink. "You know you can trust me, my dear."

"Oh, I can trust you, yes. Whether I want to is another matter entirely. A part of me doesn't want Bilbo to come, merely for the sake of his life. He will not come back from this quest the same. If, that is, he comes back at all."

When once again Gandalf didn't reply, Alana turned to the dwarves to find them all staring at her with curiosity and confusion, clearly not having come to any sound conclusion as to what they thought of her. With a withering smile, Alana left the room and ducked out of the house. The night was cool, the air crisp. Standing inside such a small house for so long had stiffened Alana's back, so she quickly stretched to loosen the tight muscles. With almost silent footsteps, Alana then moved over to the little stone bench. Using her cloak as a makeshift pillow, Alana lay back on the stone and lifted her knees so her feet rested on the seat. With both hands over her stomach, the young Ranger stared up at the sky and let her mind fall blissfully blank.

* * *

It could only have been a few minutes later that Alana heard the thundering sound of Gandalf's 'dark' voice rumble through the door. With a whispered curse, Alana got to her feet and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders as she re-entered the little hobbit hole. She poked her head into the room, sighing in relief when she saw the customary darkness that spread outwards from the wizard was slowly retreating back into him. Wondering if she had missed out on anything important, Alana decided that she should perhaps stay, and moved to stand against the wall.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet," the wizard declared firmly. "In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while Smaug is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the smell of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." Gandalf turned to Thorin, his eyes blazing. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this."

Thorin sighed, but nonetheless relented. "Very well. We will do it your way."

"No, no, no," Bilbo protested vehemently, shaking his head, only for his words to fall on deaf ears.

"Give him the contract," Thorin ordered with a bark. His eyes met Alana's, grey clashing with blue. "We have no contract for you to sign; your presence among us was not anticipated."  
Alana shook her head, smiling gently. "I don't need a contract. Any profit you make need not be shared with me. I only desire to help you reclaim your home." Her eyes turned sad. "I know how it feels to lose everything." Once Thorin had sent her sharp nod, the Ranger tilted her head towards Bilbo, watching him becoming gradually paler and paler – though without really registering what she was witnessing – and therefore it was quite a shock when he simply collapsed on the floor. She frowned, bewildered.

"Ah, very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf grumbled.

Alana glanced at the aforementioned dwarf and their eyes met. Alana shook her head. "You're an idiot," she murmured teasingly. She then pushed herself off the rounded wall and headed towards the incapacitated hobbit, gently scooping him into her arms. With a bit of a struggle, she managed to set him down on one of his armchairs. Alana then grabbed a clean handkerchief from her pocket, went back to the kitchen, and soaked it in water. Upon her return to the halfling, she placed it on his forehead. The cold and the wet woke him up immediately, his legs automatically kicking outwards and thus crashing into Alana's legs. She didn't so much as flinch, only offering a wordless smile of forgiveness when Bilbo started stuttering out half-formed apologies. Gandalf chose that moment to swoop in, a steaming mug in his hands, which he passed to Bilbo.

Alana sent the old wizard a small smile, before moving back to the kitchen. Though there was very little food left, Alana managed to scrounge up enough to fill a plate. She took an empty seat and leaned back, kicking her feet up onto the table and making the most of the suddenly empty room. She wasn't entirely sure where the dwarves had gone, but she was grateful for the opportunity to rest her legs and fill her stomach.

A figure suddenly took the seat next to her. Startled, for she neither saw nor heard her new companion approaching, Alana glanced over to see Fili eyeing her with open, almost child-like curiosity. "Yes, Fili?" she asked, before popping a ripe tomato into her mouth.

The blonde dwarf grinned. "I was wondering if you could tell me something about your previous adventures," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "You seemed to imply earlier that Gandalf pulls you out of the comfort of your chair all the time."

Alana chuckled. "Master Dwarf, whenever Gandalf is involved, chairs don't even exist." She glanced at the grey wizard as he spoke to Bilbo, no doubt trying to convince the small fellow to join their quest. Alana's eyes turned down. "My first adventure – not that you can really call it that, because it's really more of an escape story – happened when I was seventeen. It was eight years ago now, when the village I grew up in was attacked by orcs. My father was killed in the battle that followed. They outnumbered the dúnedain ten-to-one, at least. Despite how well trained the warriors of our race are, there was nothing we could do against such numbers. So we fled; my mother, my brother, and me. We had only one horse, and I gave it to my mother and brother to use, while I travelled on foot. I took us to Imladris – to Rivendell – hoping that we might find some safety there. Only, along the way, we were ambushed in the night by a pack of goblins. I urged my mother to take my brother and leave me. I stayed behind to kill all the goblins that I could, but a few made after them. I know now that they were killed at the borders of Rivendell by the elves, having followed my family up until that point. Unfortunately for me, I was injured during the skirmish. A stab wound to the leg. Our horse had carried all our medical supplies and food, which meant I had nothing. But I continued on, regardless. After four days of no food and no rest, I couldn't continue. My wound had become infected, and I was very ill. Now, I have enough knowledge of the healing arts to have stopped the infection, but at the time I had nothing. All I could do was try to make it to Rivendell. I passed out on a plain somewhere. By lucky chance I was found by a group of elves, and they took me to the one place I wanted to be so I could be cared for and healed. I ended up being bed-bound for two weeks." She smiled at Fili, sadly and wistfully. "I lost my father on the day of that attack, but at least my mother and brother survived." After a lull, Alana suddenly bolted upright. "Fili, do you know what the date is?"

Fili was visibly shocked by her sudden movement, but nodded. "April 26th. Why?"

Alana slumped back in her chair, a lazy smile on her face. "It's Estel's birthday on the 1st, in five days. He'll be ten."

"Estel being...?"

"My brother," Alana clarified.

Fili frowned. "You're fifteen years older than your brother?"

Alana nodded. "I am. Don't forget my people live a long time when compared to ordinary men. Almost as long as dwarves, to my knowledge." She stretched. "Well, I don't know what you want to do, but I'm going back outside."

"Sure thing," Fili said, smiling as she stood. "Thanks for the tale, by the way. Even if it was a sad one. I'm sorry you lost your father."

Alana smiled sadly. "It's alright. It's not as if it's a secret. Many know of that day." Then she kept her word and headed outside, the hobbit's round, green door closing with a quiet squeak behind her.


	2. A Daughter of Kings

Alana was lying back on the bench again, staring sightlessly up at the stars. Unwanted tears were slowly making their way down her cheeks, but she was so lost in thought she didn't notice them. She was too busy remembering the very thing she had just retold as if it were a mere story. As if it were some fantasy of someone else's life. As if that wasn't the day her life changed forever.

* * *

_Alana was sat in front of the fire, feet tucked under her legs, a book lying open in her hands. Every now and then she would pick off a piece of the bread from her plate and pop it in her mouth, chewing absently, before turning a page. Back then, Alana had read a lot. She was proud of the fact that she could read, and she enjoyed reading the stories her father brought back for her whenever he visited Imladris._

_Her mother walked in, two-year-old Aragorn perched on her hip and playing with the ends of her blonde hair. Of the whole family, Gilraen was the only one who didn't have dark hair. Alana glanced up and smiled at her mother, placing her book down on the table with a piece of stretched leather to hold her place, and standing. The young woman then took Aragorn from her mother's arms, smiling at him when he babbled happily. It was at that moment that Arathorn, Alana and Aragorn's father, came running into the house. His footsteps – hurried and heavy – echoed around the house as he ran up the stairs. He came back down a minute later with their weapons in hand._

_"Father, what is it?" Alana asked, alarmed. "What's wrong?"_

_Arathorn looked grave. "The village is under attack. Orcs. We must get out of here." He passed Alana her sword after Gilraen took Aragorn back. The poor boy looked so confused. Arathorn placed his hands on his wife's shoulders. "Get Hortha and head to Rivendell. Take Aragorn and Alana with you. I will join you when I can."_

_Alana gasped, eyes wide. "You're staying?!"_

_Arathorn sighed. "It is my duty to protect the villagers. Now go, all of you."_

_The family all ran out of the house, none of them able to pause for more than a second to take in the carnage all around them. Alana's hands were shaking as she gripped her sword hard enough for the blood to be drawn away from her knuckles, her eyes wide and scared as the horror of what was happening hit home. Aragorn was crying, too young to understand what was really going on, but terrified nonetheless. The panic hanging in the air seemed to invade every pore of Alana's body as she looked around her. Buildings were burning, the screams of men, women and children alike causing cold shivers to shoot down her spine. Already the ground was littered with bodies, the ground saturated with the spilled blood of her kinsmen. Innocent people who had been murdered in cold blood._

_Gilraen murmured reassuringly to Aragorn as the boy tumbled into a deeper state of hysteria, just as they reached the stables. Arathorn gave each member of his family a parting embrace and kiss to the forehead, before running out to join the fight without a backward glance. Alana, after a scant second of hesitation, followed, her mother calling desperately after her. She did not stop. She could not stop. Their village was very small – only around thirty to forty residents – but every one of them that could fight was doing so. That cut their numbers in half. Around two hundred orcs were invading the village, setting more and more things on fire and just causing chaos._

_Alana threw herself on the first orc that came into range, slicing through its stomach and then slitting its throat with a cry. Pure fury and hate were thrumming through her veins, adding a sharpness to her senses. Fighting became instinctual, a dance so familiar she could perform it with her eyes closed. It never occurred to her that, for the first time in her life, she was killing. Her mind refused to see it that way. This was defence; protection of her loved ones. This was_ not _murder._

_"Alana, what are you doing here?!" Arathorn cried, dispatching an orc as he did._

_"I can fight, so I'm helping!" she replied through gritted teeth as she parried an attack. She kicked the orc in the shin, causing it to growl and become distracted. She then lopped off its head with a strong thrust of her sword._

_Arathorn ran up to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You must go back to your mother and Aragorn. I_ know _you can fight, which is why I'm sending you with them. You can protect them. You_ must _protect them. Please, Alana, go back. You cannot stay here."_

_Alana shrieked as an orc appeared behind Arathorn's back, ducking out of his grip and thrusting her sword into its chest. It died with a foul gurgle, black blood spewing from both the stab wound and its mouth. Alana flinched back when a few drops splashed onto her face._

_Wiping the blood away, she turned back to her father, who was watching her with surprise and pride. "Alright, father, I will." She hugged him tight. "Stay alive."_

_Arathorn nodded. "I will do my best, so long as you promise to do the same. Now go!"_

_Alana took off running in the opposite direction, back to the stables. Hortha, their horse, was ready to go, with Gilraen on his back and Aragorn in her arms. Alana grabbed Hortha's reins and pulled him out without a word. Gilraen was visibly relieved to see her daughter again, her spine slumping a little as her relief settled._

_They managed to make it out of the village swiftly, and mercifully unseen. It wasn't long before they reached the brow of a nearby hill, overlooking their home. Alana glanced back one last time, only to see the whole village in flames. Their house and stables were among those burning._

_Over the cry of the orcs and the vicious crackle of the flames, she could hear her father's voice, ordering everyone to get out of there. To retreat. As he moved to battle another orc – this one far taller and paler than the rest and with a claw for an arm – the beast caught his shoulder with its jagged sword. Arathorn fell onto his knees, stunned by the impact._

_Alana found herself screaming, calling out to him, her voice unfamiliar as it shrieked in her ears. "Father!" He glanced up to her. Even from this distance, Alana knew there was nothing but acceptance in his eyes. The pale orc thrust his sword into Arathorn's chest, and the man who'd raised Alana slumped to the ground the moment the blade was pulled from his body. "No!" Alana could barely believe her eyes, though her body seemed to accept the evidence before her easily enough; tears began swiftly flooding down her cheeks. She fell to her knees, sobbing. She could detect Gilraen's cries and Aragorn's shrill wails behind her, but she couldn't hear them properly. Grief was muffling all sound._

_But then a strange calm settled over her. Determination flared in her chest as she remembered Arathorn's last plea to her. She looked up, stood, and whispered to the air, "I promise to protect them, father. I promise."_

_And with that, she turned and grabbed Hortha's reins once more, tugging him into movement. With every step they moved further away from their Chieftain, their family, and what remained of their home. But Alana refused to look back. She had to deliver on her promise. Looking back would only crumble her resolve. She had no other choice but to just keep ploughing on._

* * *

It took a moment for Alana to realise someone was standing over her. Hastily wiping the cold tears off her face, Alana took a moment to gather her wits, before focusing on her visitor. It was Thorin. His face was blank, but his eyes showed a mix of both impatience and concern. "Sorry," she mumbled, sitting up, "I didn't realise you were there."

Thorin huffed and sat down beside her when she shuffled over to one side. "You seemed lost in your thoughts."

Alana nodded. "In a way, yes, I was."

"What were you thinking about, if I may ask?" Thorin glanced at her.

"I was remembering the day orcs attacked my village. The day I lost my father." She looked up at the stars, a familiar form of comfort, unable to meet his eyes.

"Who are you?" Thorin suddenly asked. "Who are you, really?" There was no hostility to his tone, which was an admittedly pleasant surprise. Still, it wasn't exactly friendly, either.

Still, Alana was taken aback by his question. "What do you mean?"

"There is far more to you than you like to admit. The way you hold yourself is... admittedly somewhat familiar." He glanced over at her again. "You almost remind me of myself. We have both lost our homes, both lost loved ones at the hands of orcs."

Alana laughed bitterly. "Yes, there is something I am not telling you. Something very few people know about." She looked at him. "Since you are leading this company, and are a King, I believe I can trust you to your word. If I tell you, you must promise me you will speak of this to no one else without my permission."

Thorin seemed to realise this was an incredibly sensitive and serious subject, for he sat up straighter. "I swear."

Alana exhaled loudly. "My father was Arathorn II, the Chieftain of the dúnedain." She took a deep breath. "Through him, I am a descendant of Isildur. My brother is his heir."

"You are royalty?" Thorin asked, shocked.

Alana let out a humourless laugh. "No, we have not been true royalty for nearly a thousand years and many, many generations. Just because I am descended from a line of Kings does not mean I am royalty myself. That fate was lost long, long ago. Perhaps it will be reclaimed one day, but it will not be by me."

"Following that logic, I am not royalty, either," Thorin pointed out gruffly. "Yet you just addressed me as such." He placed a hand on her shoulder, and it provided a grounding weight that Alana wasn't aware she needed, and as a result couldn't help but mentally cling to. "I swore I would not share this secret, and I shan't, but this quest will last a long time. You should tell the others."

Alana nodded, her gaze going back to the stars. "Perhaps, if the time is right and I trust them enough, I will tell them." Her eyes flickered his way. "You must understand though, that there are some who wish to see my line wiped from existence. It is for our safety we do not share this with people we do not know. Even those we know well are mostly unaware of who we really are."

Thorin frowned at her. "You do not know me," he pointed out. "My word as a crownless King likely means little. Why tell me?"

Alana smiled sadly. "Perhaps it is because, just as you see yourself in me, I see myself in you. Besides, dwarves are a notoriously honour-bound race. You gave your word that you would keep my secret, and I believe you. You are my leader now, and for the foreseeable future you are the person to whom I have pledged my services. It makes sense that you know more about me, does it not?"

For a long while, both of them were silent, listening to the feeble chirping of crickets in the distance. Then Thorin looked at her again, asking softly, "Who else knows?"

"Gandalf knows. He has long been a friend of our family. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlórien are also aware, as are Lord Elrond and his family." She could see Thorin was growing more and more tense at the mention of the elves, and Alana only barely managed to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "I know you do not trust elves as a race, but the elves of Imladris and the Golden Wood do not hate you as you think they do. It is only the elves of Greenwood that harbour a true and bitter resentment for your kind, and Thranduil is not one who has been trusted with our identity. I met him once." She sneered a little. "I could not stand him."

Thorin grunted out a strange sort of laugh. "Perhaps I misjudged you," he muttered dryly.

Alana chuckled. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Master Dwarf. You know only very little about me. Having a common enemy does not necessarily make us allies, either." She then stood. "I think I shall retire. Goodnight, Thorin."

Without another word, Alana left Thorin to his thoughts. She ducked inside Bilbo's house and quickly found a comfortably large armchair sitting empty in Bag End's secondary living room. She unbuckled her belt with her weapons and placed them on the floor beside her. Her bow and arrows were still in the main hallway, and she trusted they would be safe there. Alana's hidden daggers remained on her person at all times, as she refused to be completely unarmed, even in a safe place and amongst trusted (enough) company. The only place that she was ever truly relaxed enough to shed her weapons (and even then it was not always) was Rivendell. She leaned her back against one of the arms of the chair and threw her legs over the other. She drifted into a dreamless sleep with her cheek pressed up against the back cushion.

* * *

Alana felt someone grab hold of her and she woke with a violent start. Her hand automatically went to the hidden dagger in her boot and she withdrew it, holding it threateningly against the neck of her attacker. It took her a moment to realise there was no attacker, and she was just being woken to leave.

With an embarrassed smile, Alana put the dagger back. The dwarf in front of her – Bombur – seemed to be in an apparent state of shock, for he was unmoving. "Sorry, Bombur. Instinct."

Silence greeted her comment. Alana tried to get off her chair, but Bombur was in the way, staring sightlessly at the space in front of him. She gently poked him in the arm in a lazy attempt to get his attention, causing him to blink himself out of his daze. "Oh, don't worry about it, lassie. Also... sorry for just freezing like that. I wasn't expecting to be attacked before we've even left!" Bombur released a merry trill of laughter, before he stepped back, allowing her to get to her feet.

Alana's back made a few satisfying popping sounds when she stretched, but unfortunately the position she'd fallen asleep in had left her with aching shoulders and a stiff back and neck. Groaning softly as she tried to free up the muscles in her arms by rolling them around, Alana made her way into the kitchen to pick up some breakfast. She accepted the bacon and eggs offered to her by Bofur, and quickly wolfed down the warm food in a manner completely unbefitting a human woman, but in the company of dwarves she could be considered quite proper. She then placed her plate in the sink and went to her chair once more. She buckled her belt back around her waist, then ducked into the main hallway and pulled her quiver onto her shoulders. She finished by strapping her bow across her back. Making her way outside, Alana went straight over to Eluviel. The dapple-grey mare snorted in greeting, pawing restlessly at the ground.

"Good morning, Eluviel," Alana said, stroking her face, where a white blaze ran from between her eyes to the end of her nose. Eluviel had a black mane and tail, and white socks on her rear legs and front right. Alana began rummaging through her pack, making sure she had everything she needed already packed in the bag. She found nothing missing, so after tying her bag to the back of Eluviel's saddle, she just stood absently stroking the mare's coat as she waited for the dwarves to be ready too.

She was joined a minute later by Gandalf. She glanced up at him. "Bilbo's not woken, has he?" the Ranger asked quietly. With a heavy sigh, Gandalf shook his head. "Can't say I blame him; not all are eager to go on their first adventure. Hobbits probably doubly so." She moved her hand and scratched behind Eluviel's ear. "Still, there's something about him. I have a feeling he will come, in the end."  
"I would not count on it if I were you," Thorin said gruffly as the dwarves filed out of Bilbo's house.

Dwalin grunted his agreement. "The hobbit is almost too cowardly to leave his own front gate. He would not last a week out in the wild."

Alana sent the old dwarf a stony glare. "You are too quick to judge," she snapped. "Bilbo is not like other hobbits; of that, I am sure." She glanced at his door. "He will come."

"You willing to bet on that, Alana?" Fili asked, grinning.

Alana smirked. "I would be willing to bet all the gold on me. Unfortunately, I doubt the rest of you have that much. That, and I plan to spend much of it at the next town we reach. Still, I guess it can't hurt to gain a little more. How much?"

"How about twenty gold coins?" Dwalin challenged, raising a contemptuous eyebrow.  
Alana nodded. "Very well. Twenty it is. Anyone else in while we're at it?"

There were many shouts, each person picking a side. Only Thorin stayed silent, which surprised Alana – even Gandalf had placed a bet, and the grey wizard never gambled; he'd usually just mutter something about how gambling involved 'abusing his title as a wizard', whatever that meant, and refuse to offer up a single coin. Most of the dwarves bet against Bilbo appearing, but Alana, Gandalf, Kili, Oin and Bofur said otherwise. At this, Alana and Gandalf shared an amused look. When they both thought alike about something, they were very rarely wrong.  
Alana soon found herself riding at the very back of the group, Eluviel walking slowly to match the pace of the ponies the dwarves were riding. Gandalf eventually moved towards the front, no doubt to talk with Thorin, or to keep an eye on him the very least. As the dwarves chatted cheerfully to one another, Alana began to sing quietly to herself.

" _Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!_  
_O Queen beyond the Western Seas!_  
_O light to us that wander here_  
_Amid the world of woven trees!_

 _Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!_  
_Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!_  
_Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee_  
_In a far land beyond the sea._

 _O Stars that in the Sunless Year_  
_With shining hand by her were sown,_  
_In windy fields now bright and clear_  
_We see you silver blossom blown!_

 _O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!_  
_We still remember, we who dwell_  
_In this far land beneath the trees,_  
_Thy starlight on the Western Seas_."

The dwarves closer to her could hear her singing, and their conversations came to an end fairly promptly so they could listen in. As soon as she finished, their cheerful chatter and raucous laughter began again. Alana knew they had been listening, for she had heard the shift in volume after she began her song, but let them get away with it. It was unlikely they knew the song she had sung, so she was safe enough. At least Thorin did not hear it. No doubt he would recognise the song, or at least its origins. Prejudiced as he was, he would not be happy about her singing an elvish hymn.

Their progress through the forest had been steady, but it wasn't long before the Ranger heard a frantic cry from a now-familiar voice. "Wait! _Wait!_ " Alana turned her head back, and there was Bilbo, a pack on his shoulders and his contract in his hand. He wore a purple coat over his usual attire.

Apparently, no one else had heard his shouts, because they continued merrily on their way. "Stop!" Alana shouted to them. Many of the dwarves were startled by her call, but they all did as she asked.

Bofur frowned. "What is it, lassie?"

Alana grinned at him. "We have a visitor."

It was at that exact moment that Bilbo came into the view of everyone else, puffing and panting. Alana was internally impressed; they had travelled quite far beyond the borders of Hobbiton, and yet he still managed to catch them up. He must have been running the whole time to achieve such a thing. He had some endurance, that was for sure, which she knew would only prove to aid him later. Bilbo ran past her and came to a stop in front of Balin. His chest was heaving, and he was clearly breathless, but still he managed to wheeze out, "I signed it!"

Balin inspected the contract closely. "Everything appears to be in order," he announced finally. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

The dwarves cheered, and Alana and Gandalf grinned. Thorin somehow managed to look unimpressed. Alana frowned. He really needed to sort out his attitude. "Give him a pony!" he barked.

Alarm flashed in Bilbo's eyes. "No, no, no, no, that... that won't be necessary, thank you, but I-I'm sure I can keep up on foot. I-I-I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once–" Before he could say more, Bilbo was lifted off his feet by the young Durin brothers and placed on the back of a pony.

Alana couldn't stop herself from giggling at the sight of his resulting pout. He looked cute, in a strange, childish sort of way. From the front of the line, Thorin huffed, and, somehow, Alana managed to hear it. Naturally, as one of the dúnedain, she had better hearing than ordinary men, but even so she should not have been able to hear him. It must have been particularly hearty. "Move on!" the exiled King ordered sharply.

Rolling her eyes, Alana steered Eluviel alongside the _extremely_ uncomfortable-looking hobbit. She leaned down towards him, tightening her hold on Eluviel's reins to make sure she didn't slip out of the saddle. "Relax, Bilbo," she whispered, making him jump violently. Alana raised an eyebrow, straightening again now that she had his attention. "If you want to be able to ride her properly, you have to relax. You're making her uneasy like that."

Bilbo shook his head, but Alana could see the muscles in his dead-straight back loosen a little. "I've never ridden before. What if I fall off?" he asked in a high-pitched voice.

Alana grinned down at him. "We were all in your position once. You simply must trust in both your pony and yourself, and it shouldn't happen. Follow my advice, and you'll also find the ride far more enjoyable."

She then pulled Eluviel to a stop so the rest of the company could go past her. She ended up at the rear of the group once more.

"Oi, Alana!"

The shout caused her to look up just in time for her to hold out her hands and catch a flying coin purse. Grinning, Alana shouted back her thanks and tucked the money away.


	3. Brotherly Bonds

They arrived at the gate of Bree after three days of leisurely travelling. It had taken quite a lot of discussion between Thorin and Gandalf (and eventually Alana, too) to convince the exiled King to stop here. The company were eager to be back on their feet, and a few let out relieved groans as they stretched their stiff backs and legs after the long hours of riding. Chuckling, Alana followed them into the Prancing Pony, where they hired rooms for the night with only a few questions from the owner of the inn, Beldon Butterbur. The dwarves – and Bilbo – had three rooms between the fourteen of them, and Alana and Gandalf had rooms of their own.

After a large portion of meaty stew for dinner, Alana excused herself from the group and went back outside. The warm, spring season meant it was still light, the sky a soft mix of gold and pink, despite being late in the afternoon. After briefly looking around, Alana found what she was searching for and entered a hunting store. A large assortment of bows, arrows, repair kits and polishes lined the walls and shelves.

An elegant, black bow immediately caught her eye. Making her way over to it, Alana picked it up. The bow was supple and strong, and was carved with exquisite accuracy and detail. It was a recurve bow, like her own. "Find somethin' ye like, miss?" a man suddenly popped up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the weapon she was examining.

Alana nodded. She ran her fingers over the wood. "Would I be correct in thinking this was made of the wood of a mallorn tree?" she asked.

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Ye would. 'Ow'd ye know that?"

Alana grinned. "I have been to the Golden Wood a few times, and my own bow is made of mallorn. In fact, it is very similar to this one." She glanced at him. "Where did you get it?"

"From a merchant that came 'ere all the way from Esgaroth. The lad got it off a travellin' elf. I should warn ye, if ye plan on buyin' it, it's expensive," the man said, walking back to his counter. "Don't get bows like that come 'round 'ere very of'en."

Alana smiled and followed him, before placing the bow on the counter. "That should be fine. Could I have that and a quiver of twenty arrows, please?"

The man nodded. "Pardon me for askin', but 'ho is this for? Since ye mentioned ye 'ave yer own bow, I'm assuming not for ye."

"You assume correctly," Alana told him with a smile, passing him the amount of gold required. Her store was significantly lowered with this purchase, it was true, but she still had a reasonable amount. "It is a birthday gift for my brother."

Smiling, the man took the money. "Ye must care greatly for 'im to spend that much. Younger or older?"

"Younger. He is turning ten." Alana grinned at the brief flash of concern that appeared in the man's eyes. "Don't worry; he lives in Rivendell, with the elves. I am sure no one will be endangered by his shooting. He's already begun his training, as I understand it." Alana gathered up her items and smiled. "Thank you for all your help, sir."

"Ye're very welcome. 'Ave a nice evenin'!" he called after her.

When she ducked out of the shop, Alana almost literally ran into Kili. Both were startled by the near impact. "Oh, hey, Alana!" he greeted cheerily. He glanced at her new bow and the quiver. "Stocking up?"

Alana shook her head. "No, these aren't for me."

"Who're they for then? Me? There are no other archers in our group." Kili's eyes sparked with mirth and mischief.

Alana rolled her eyes. "No, they're for my brother."

"Your brother?"

Alana nodded as she turned away. "It's his birthday soon!" she called over her shoulder.

She quickly made her way back to the inn and walked inside, having to duck a little for the door. Being over six feet tall had its issues at times, even in a town inhabited mainly by men. Alana was greatly amused by the sight of an already very drunk Bofur standing on the top of a table, singing loudly, a pint of ale in his hand. The dwarves – well, the ones that weren't stuffing their mouths full of food – were laughing and singing along. Shaking her head, Alana made her way over to the group and sat beside Gandalf, placing her new bow on her lap. She began absently sifting through the arrows, which had black feathers – an unusual choice, as black-feathered arrows were often associated with orcs and goblins. These ones were finely made though, which clearly separated them from the crude ones those vile creatures used.

"So that's what you wanted that money for," Fili said, plopping down on the seat beside her, grinning drunkenly. "For Estel?"

It took a tense moment for Alana to recall that she had shared her brother's name with the blonde dwarf at Bag End. "Yes."

"A gift, Alana?" Gandalf asked, eying the bow curiously.

Nodding, the Ranger stole the tankard from in front of her and took a healthy swig. A few of the dwarves cheered her on, resulting in a fond roll of her eyes. "I am trusting I will be able to see him," she murmured, giving Gandalf a pointed side-glance.

"Don't you worry, I will get us there somehow," Gandalf murmured, no doubt so Thorin wouldn't overhear. He would most certainly _not_ be happy about hearing of their plans to visit the Hidden Valley.

Alana nodded, before excusing herself and heading up to her room. Pulling her sword off her waist, she laid it down with Aragorn's gift so it was leaning against the wall, next to her own bow, which she'd left there earlier. She then untied her cloak and draped it over the end of the bed. Not bothering to do anything more than simply kick off her boots, Alana collapsed on the bed – on top of the sheets – and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

They were on the move again early the next morning; the sun was still low on the horizon. This time, shortly after setting off, Bilbo pulled his pony to the back of the line so he could talk to Alana. Drawn to his innocent questions and personality, Alana told him tales of a few of her travels. He seemed particularly eager to hear about Rivendell.

"What's it like?" he asked, in the way a child might ask about something they found particularly exciting. "I have read many books about it, but I'm sure it'll be different coming from someone who has been there herself, and probably quite recently."

Alana smiled. "It's quite a spectacular sight," she admitted. "It was built on the naturally occurring ledges of the valley. They use hot springs for baths and there are many waterfalls and rivers running around the place. They built their home around what was already there, rather than altering the land for their purposes. Somehow – and it astonishes me every time I think about it – the stone seems to constantly give off a glow. During the day it is gold, and at night, it is silver. It is very peaceful there." She then giggled. "Provided you don't get caught up with Elladan and Elrohir, of course. I am slightly concerned about Estel being there alone with them – he might pick up some bad habits."

"Elladan and Elrohir?" Bilbo asked, frowning as the unfamiliar names fell from his lips.

"They're Lord Elrond's twin sons." She paused. "To be honest, they act quite similarly to Fili and Kili." She glanced up to find the two brothers, who had previously been laughing very loudly, looking at her with curiosity. In unison, they turned their ponies around and moved to walk with Alana and Bilbo.

"What was that you were saying, Alana?" Fili asked. "We heard our names."

Alana smirked. "I was comparing you to a pair of rascal brothers I know. You are very similar. I would say you'd get on well, but probably shouldn't."

"Why not?" Kili asked, frowning.

"It might upset your uncle, for me to encourage you to get to know some elves." She paused. "Then again, if you really wanted to, I'm sure we could hide it from him."

Fili and Kili neither scowled nor smiled at the mention that the brothers were elves. Fili glanced at Thorin, who was leading the group and having a quiet conversation with Dwalin. "Thorin has been telling us stories about the elves, telling us even from a young age that all elves are... not to be trusted," he admitted quietly. "Not ever. That they will inevitably betray us, in one way or another."

Alana snorted. "Elves are some of the wisest, kindest creatures to walk these lands. A hate for one particular elf has given him a slandered view of the whole race. The elves of Mirkwood are quicker to reach for their blades and far less rational than the others. If there was anyone you could put you trust in, it could always be Lord Elrond, or the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien."

"So, what are these brothers like?" Kili asked.

"Elladan and Elrohir are nearing their 3000th year on this land, give or take a century. They were born in the year 130 of the Third Age. Of all the elves of Rivendell, they are particularly fond and devoted to the Rangers of the North, and were there to help many of my kin into Rivendell after our village was attacked, and assisted those of my kindred who did not wish to stay there in finding new homes." She hesitated for a brief moment. "An orc attack on their mother caused her to depart for the Grey Havens, so they, like Thorin and myself, harbour a great hate for the beasts. They can be deadly serious when required, but like to mess around with one another. They argue a lot, but it's always good-naturedly, and I don't think they have ever properly fought. Certainly not while I was there. They are practically inseparable; it is rare to see one without the other."

"Rare?"

Alana grinned. "They usually go their separate ways when there are females in their company, although even then they will be introduced together." She made a show of rolling her eyes.

"Do they do that a lot?" Bilbo asked. At Alana's questioning look, he elaborated. "Go after women?"

Alana shook her head. "Elladan and Elrohir will not pursue any woman unless they believe there is a genuine chance that something may come of it. Elves tend to love only once in their life. Not, I believe, due to a lack of ability, but rather because elves love with such raw intensity that the agony of losing one love is enough to stop them from seeking it out a second time. The twins, I believe, are serious in their desire to find their special someone. Since they both know the other's thoughts, they respectfully keep their distance when one or both have found someone of interest."

"You speak as if you know them very well," Bilbo noted.

Alana nodded. "Oh, I do. They took in my family after we lost our home, and my mother and brother still live there with them to this day. Elladan and Elrohir have become like brothers to me, and Arwen, Elrond's daughter, like a sister. Elrond himself could be described as a father-figure, although I still have many memories of my real father. Estel does not, since Ara–" she choked a little at her slip-up. "Since father died when he was two," she finished hastily. Thankfully, no one commented on her stumble.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and eventually Fili and Kili returned to their previous positions further up in the line. Bilbo sneezed. "Ugh," he groaned. Alana glanced at him. He seemed to be having a reaction to all the horse hair, and had been sneezing quite a lot. He began checking his pockets. "Oh, no!" he cried, causing a few to turn their heads.

"What is it?" Alana asked.

"I forgot my handkerchief!" The few dwarves who heard laughed.

Alana fought hard to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. She pulled a spare out of her bag and passed it to him. He took it with a nod of thanks. "You got lucky this time, Bilbo Baggins," she said. "I'm afraid you must leave all the comforts of your home _at_ home. The wild is not made for comfort, so you'll need to get used to living without many of the things you take for granted for a few months."

Bilbo huffed dejectedly. "That sounds _fantastic,_ " he grumbled under his breath, probably unaware that Alana could hear every word he said.

"You'll learn to appreciate it, my friend," she stated calmly.

* * *

 Thorin called Alana up to the front. She sent Bilbo a quick smile, before urging Eluviel into a trot. She came up beside him. "Yes?"

"It's getting dark. See if you can find a place for us to rest the night. I hear your eyesight is better than ours, so if anyone is able to find something, it'll be you," he ordered tersely. "We'll wait for you here."

Alana didn't like orders or commands much, but she nodded and did as asked. She kicked Eluviel into a gallop and raced through the trees. She knew this area well, had travelled through it many times in the past few years; if she remembered correctly, there was a ledge on a cliff not too far from here. As Alana broke through the line of trees, she looked up to see the ledge she thought was here.

In front of it, however, was a scene straight from a nightmare.

An overturned carriage was surrounded by completely torn up bodies of – from what Alana could tell from the meagre remains – a fat horse, two peasant men, a woman, and, to her horror, a child. The child was the most intact of them all, and Alana was sure as soon as her eyes fell on his little form that the image of his terrified face would never leave her mind. All five of the bodies were surrounded by fresh blood. Only the shallowest areas were dry. Which meant whatever had attacked these innocent people had left only minutes ago.

With her heart in her throat, Alana dismounted her horse and slowly headed for the scene, her hand resting on her hilt of her sword. She was careful not to step in any of the blood patches. She knelt in front of the little boy and gently eased his eyes closed. She then uttered a quiet prayer in elvish for their souls to be delivered safely to the Halls of Waiting, before she straightened and returned to Eluviel. 

Alana jumped on Eluviel's back and turned her around, galloping back to the company, who were waiting for her. Thorin was alert as soon as he saw the pale colour of her face. "What is it?"

"An attack," she replied. "It was brutal and harsh; no doubt the work of orcs. We should be careful for a while; they are unlikely to have gotten far since the attack happened – the blood is still fresh. That said, there is a ledge not too far ahead that we can use for the night. With the exception of rain, it should keep us sheltered well enough."

Thorin nodded stiffly once, before the whole company began to lead their ponies in the direction she had travelled. Thorin nodded to her to take the lead, and she led the way up the hidden path up to the ledge, taking a wide path so they wouldn't encounter the violent scene she had. She was unsure how many would be able to stomach it, but even those who could would undoubtedly not wish to see it.

Thorin turned to Oin and Gloin after the group came to a stop atop the ledge. "You two, light a fire." They nodded and began preparing a small campfire.

Alana sat herself down against the cliff face. True to her word, the ledge was sheltered from the wind, which rolled over their perch and left them largely untouched. Alana just hoped that the heavens wouldn't open up on them that night, though they hadn't so far been given any indication that it was going to do so; there were no ominous, dark clouds in the sky, and the birds were still chirping cheerfully in their nests.

Bombur and Bofur quickly got to work preparing a meal once the fire was lit. Alana looked over her bow while she waited for her meal. In all honesty, living in the wild had made her stomach used to getting little to no food for days on end, but it was nice to be able to eat as frequently as the dwarves did. As she checked over her bow for any chips or scratches, Kili moved to stand in front of her.

She raised her eyes, eyebrows going with them. "Is there any particular reason you're here, or do you simply intend to stand there, watching me?" she asked sweetly. Snickers from a few of the company followed that question.

"I was wondering if you were actually any good with that," he said boldly, motioning to the bow in her hands.

"I can vouch for her," Thorin said, suddenly appearing behind his nephew. Kili jumped upon hearing his voice. "She has excellent aim." He paused. "Then again, that is over short distances. I know nothing about how good she is from a distance."

Alana smiled. "I have been trained by elves, Master Kili, Master Thorin. I can assure you, I know how to use a bow." Thorin nodded at her, accepting her words with a set jaw, and then turned back to talk to Balin. Alana tilted her head to the side. "However, I believe I heard a challenge in your voice when you spoke of my skill, Master Kili."

Kili rolled his eyes. "For the last time, just Kili, please. And yes, I suppose a little competition wouldn't go amiss."

"Perhaps, when we are in a safer place than here, we can compete as you wish to." She paused merely to smirk smugly. "I hope you can prepare your pride for a battering; I have had many long years of practice."

Kili's grin widened. "I am seventy-seven years old. Though fairly young by dwarf standards, I have probably had more time to practice archery than you."

Alana's eyes glinted. "Seventy-seven, you say? That would make you around... twenty-three years old in human years. That's younger than I thought." She smiled. "Still, it can't be denied that I have not had _quite_ as much as you. How old were you when you first began training?"

"Thirty-six." Kili replied, sitting himself beside her.

Alana smiled. "One would hope that after... forty-one years, you could beat someone with just seventeen."

"Like I said, I _have_ had more practice."

Alana was silent for a moment. "How did your family take it?" she asked quietly. "When you told them you wanted to be an archer, what was their reaction?"

Kili pondered this, and Alana caught the slightly distant, glazed look in his eyes as he searched his memories for the answer. "My mother was encouraging about it." He smiled fondly. "She has always said it's better to do what you want than what you are told to, unless, of course, what you want is particularly stupid."

Alana snorted. "Naturally."

"My father died before I was old enough to tell him," Kili said, a touch of sorrow in his voice. "I was so young I barely even remember him at all, actually. I'd like to think he'd have supported me as well, but I can't be certain. And Thorin... well, Thorin was particularly difficult to persuade, with the assumption it is an elvish way of fighting. Eventually, though, he gave in."

"Probably because you were nagging him so much for so long, Kee," Fili teased, joining the conversation by sitting on Kili's other side. "I remember it all. All the moaning and the begging and the _'Please, Uncle Thorin!'_ s."

Kili shoved his brother, causing the blonde to laugh. Alana leaned forward so she could see Fili when she spoke. "And what was your response when you first learned Kili wanted to use a bow instead of an axe or sword?"

Kili snorted. "I believe his exact response was 'whatever floats your boat, **_nadadith_** '," he said with a grin.

Fili had a serious expression on his face when he muttered, "If you're happy, I'm happy. If archery makes you happy, then who am I to try to dissuade you?"

"That's a very noble thing for you to say, Fili," Alana muttered quietly. "I wish I was this close with my brother."

Kili choked on... well, Alana didn't really know. "You bought him one of the most impressive and expensive bows I've ever seen!"

Alana nodded. "I know I did. I care about him more than I care about myself, but we don't see each other often. He's too young to leave Rivendell, and I can't stand the idea of staying in one place all the time."

"But doesn't that make the time you _are_ together infinitely more precious?" Fili inquired.

Alana nodded. "I like to think so. And I admit: a part of me is always wondering what he's doing and if he's okay." She grinned. "To be frank, I can't wait for him to grow up. I'd love to be able to explore the wilds with him."

"If he's anything like you, then I'm sure he'd love that too." Fili winked, causing Alana to roll her eyes.

"Fili, Kili, Alana, food!" Bofur called to them. The brothers were on their feet immediately, rushing over to get a decent portion of food. Alana laughed at their playful pushing and shoving of each other, before she too got to her feet and made her way over to the fire. She let everyone else have their meals first.

She saw Thorin watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. At Alana's clearly questioning look, he hesitated, then gestured for her to come over. When she reached him, she asked, "What is it?"

After yet another moment of hesitation, Thorin explained himself in a low voice. "You seem to care for others more than yourself. You have repeatedly cheered up the hobbit when he becomes morose; willingly subject yourself to conversations with everyone when they want one; and always put them before you. Even with something as trivial as getting food, despite everyone knowing that they will all get some. I was just thinking, if you had no brother, you'd make a fine leader."

Alana felt herself blushing, and hoped it wasn't obvious. "Thank you. Although, if I did not have Aragorn, I may not be who I am now." Her body jammed up, and a ragged breath whistled through her teeth.

If Thorin noticed all this, he did not let it show. Still, he had noticed her slip-up. "Aragorn?" He frowned. "I thought your brother was called Estel."

Alana let her eyes fall shut, mentally berating herself for her utter carelessness, before sighing in resignation. "That is the name given to him to protect his identity. Lord Elrond gave it to him. His true name is Aragorn, though as you have probably guessed, not many people know this. Not even him. He has had that name for eight years, but in my head, he is and always will be Aragorn. I guess it just... slipped out." She glanced back at the camp to see a lot of the dwarves staring unashamedly at her and Thorin, no doubt wondering what they were talking so secretively about. Then she turned her head back. "I haven't made a mistake like that in years. I'm just glad that, when it happened, it was you who heard it, and not anyone else."

Thorin eyed her for a moment, his expression softening just a fraction, before he tilted his head to the side, silently bidding her a good night. When he walked off, Alana followed him with her eyes for a moment, before returning to her place against the rock and digging into her stew.


	4. Truths and Trolls

Later that night, after most of the dwarves had fallen asleep, Alana returned to the camp, having gone to check on their surroundings. Ever since coming across the attack, she hadn't been able to get rid of the feeling that they were being watched, and so had left the camp in search of signs that the orcs may still be nearby. She had found nothing, but it hadn't done much to ease her mind.

Kili, Fili, Bilbo and Gandalf were the only ones still awake. Fili and Kili because they were on watch, Gandalf because he seemed to be so deep in thought that he probably hadn't noticed how late it was, and Bilbo... well, Alana wasn't really sure why _he_ was still up.

Alana moved as quietly as she could through the camp, so as not to disturb anyone, and as she did so, she noted with great amusement that Bombur was periodically inhaling and exhaling a group of small moths. Neither he nor the moths seemed to care much about this.

"There's nothing within at least five miles of this place, that I can see," she reported, the two Durin brothers glancing her way when they heard her and then offering a silent nod each. Before sitting down on her bed roll, Alana unbuckled her belt and placed it next to her, as she did every night. Then she lay down on her side and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

A loud screech woke the Ranger up with a jolt, and she was on her feet in seconds, her sword in her hand. Her belt, however, remained on the floor by her bed roll. Alana quickly ran from the camp to scout the area again. It didn't sound like orcs, but they came in all shapes and sizes, and the possibility of not checking when they could be close was a risk she wasn't willing to take. As she reached the edge of the cliff, a second screech sounded. Her sharp eyes scanned the land with haste, but there was nothing moving. Only mildly reassured, Alana headed back to the camp.

She returned just as Thorin snapped at his nephews. "You think that's funny?" he growled. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

Alana looked at the brothers in disbelief, but their guilt-filled faces told her that what Thorin was accusing them of was true. Anger bubbled in the pit of her stomach, though she quickly pushed it down by telling herself that they seemed genuinely remorseful for their actions. "We didn't mean anything by it," Kili muttered, eyes downcast.

"No," Thorin stated bluntly, disappointment heavily coating his voice, "you didn't. You know nothing of the world." The exiled King then turned and stalked towards the edge of cliff. By this point, most of the dwarves were awake, the loud voice of their King having roused them from their slumbers.

Balin walked up to the brothers. "Don't mind him, laddie," he murmured to Kili, who still looked guilty. Fili was less bothered by his uncle's harshness, though his usual cheeriness was notably absent from his face. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs." Alana glanced over at Thorin, wondering if he was going to stop his old friend from sharing what was likely to be a rather personal tale, but he made no move to do so. "After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria." Balin sighed. "But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of orcs led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began," Balin's voice wavered for a moment, before he continued, "by beheading the King. Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Death and defeat were upon us." Balin glanced at Thorin, and when he turned back, Alana could see the respect in his eyes. "That's when I saw him; a young dwarf Prince facing down the pale orc." Alana had to cover her mouth with her hand when she heard those words. _Pale orc._ A shiver went down her spine. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice, or if they did, they made no comment, too enraptured by Balin's storytelling. The old dwarf went on. "He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armour rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived." Once more, the white haired dwarf glanced over at Thorin. "And I thought to myself then... there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King."

Thorin turned away from the cliff, only to find everyone staring at him. Alana had tears in her eyes, half from the story, half from the memory of the pale orc and how he had ripped apart her family. Part of her was relieved to finally have a name to match to the face, but the rest of her was still lost in the memory of her father's death, and the utter rage it provoked. He was an orc chief, and Alana was always aware that he would have no doubt caused pain and heartbreak in dozens of fractured families, but to _know_ that Thorin's was ripped apart by the same creature caused a fresh wave of agony to tear itself through her.

"But the pale orc," Bilbo muttered. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole from whence he came," Thorin spat out bitterly. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

"Thorin..." Alana sighed, and guilt suddenly replaced the anger in her heart. She did not have to be the one to tell him this, but despite that, he deserved to know. His steely eyes met hers. "The pale orc is still alive."

Thorin scowled. "He died. He died many long years ago."

Alana shook her head. "No, Thorin. I don't know what injuries you inflicted on him, but he was alive eight years ago." Her eyes shifted down, to where her hands had begun trembling. She consciously forced them to still.

"I cut off his hand," the dwarf told her. "He was losing blood too fast – there is _no way_ he could have survived."

Alana winced. "Well, they saved him." She looked up, her eyes full of sorrow and despair. "One of his arms is now a claw, the spike protruding from his elbow."

"Azog cannot be alive," Thorin insisted, his eyes blazing and... slightly frantic.

Alana sighed again, tears cascading down her cheeks freely now. "He was the one who murdered my father," she croaked out, her voice cracking on the final word. And with that, she was on her feet and fleeing from the dwarf King's fierce eyes.

As soon as she was completely out of sight, Alana broke into a run. She couldn't be with them right now. She couldn't be near the remind of her failure; her failure to protect her father. Her failure to seek out the orc who had murdered him.

After running for about thirty seconds, she launched herself into the branches of a tree. She scrambled up at least twenty feet, before sitting on an ideally angled branch and resting her back against the trunk. It took almost an hour for her to calm down enough to fall into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

 

At dawn, Alana was woken by much shouting. It would seem the company were looking for her. When she listened closely, she could identify eight different voices calling her name. One was quite close. Looking down, Alana quickly caught sight of Bofur.

"Are we leaving?" she asked.

Bofur was so startled by her voice that he stumbled, and then tripped over a branch. He ended up on his back, looking up at her. He grinned, picking himself up. "Aye, that we are. And a few of us were worried, since you hadn't come back during the night." He then turned in the direction of the camp and hollered, "I've found her!"

Alana quickly descended about five feet, before leaping from the branch once she found she had a clear route down. She landed with a light _thud_ in front of the dwarf. The vibrations that jolted up her leg were short-lived, but still slightly painful. "Lead the way," she said. Bofur nodded and then began walking back to the camp. She noticed that his walk was different somehow to what she was used to. It took her a moment to realise it wasn't quite as light or bouncy. Alana had a feeling it was because of the conversations they'd had during the night.

When they returned to the camp, Alana made the point of not meeting anyone's eyes – except Gandalf's, which were narrowed in a knowing but concerned manner – as she began picking up and tucking away her heavier weapons. She heard a few mutters floating in the air around her, but paid them no attention.

"Were you unarmed last night, lassie?" asked Bombur. At least, Alana thought it was Bombur.

Alana shook her head as she packed, still not looking at any of them. "No, I have some daggers on me at all times. It's just my sword and bow that I take off at night." Once her weapons had been refitted, Alana swung herself onto Eluviel's saddle. "I'm going to scout ahead," she said to no one in particular, before urging Eluviel into a canter.

"What about breakfast?" Fili called after her.

"You can save mine for another time!" she shouted back. The path was open and empty for a few miles, before the trees started again. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach only a minute or so after leaving the camp, and Alana yanked Eluviel to a halt. Startled, the mare reared up, and Alana had to fight to keep hold of the reins and not fall off. Eluviel snorted, just to make her displeasure even more known. Alana ignored her. Her gaze swept over the plain, trying to take in every detail. Eyes were on her, that much was certain. It was a feeling Alana hated with all her being. It made her feel exposed and vulnerable. Weak. After a moment though, the feeling was gone, and so, after a brief hesitation, Alana got Eluviel moving again. This time, she headed back to the dwarves.

She met them at the bottom of the cliff. "What did you see?" Thorin asked immediately. "We saw you stop very suddenly."

"I saw nothing, but I knew there was someone watching me." Alana replied, patting Eluviel's neck when the mare shuffled her weight. "We should continue with caution. We are not the only ones out here." Thorin nodded, and offered her no more words. Alana said nothing else, either.

 

* * *

For weeks they continued like this; camp, travel, camp, travel. Their surroundings slowly became less lush and the path less worn, though the cheerful mood that seemed to radiate from the group of dwarves never waned. It was on the final day of their fourth week of travel, however, that their luck turned sour.

At around noon, their sunny streak ended. Rain fell hard over their heads. Alana sunk back into her cloak, but despite how thick it was, it was still soaked through. At least it provided her with a little warmth. Alana was used to life in the wild, so was used to the rain, but that didn't mean she enjoyed walking or riding in it.

"Mister Gandalf!" Dori yelled towards the front of the line. "Can't you do something about this deluge?"

"It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you want to change the weather of the world then you should find yourself another wizard." Alana couldn't help but smirk at that. Gandalf's response was so... _Gandalf_.

"Are there any?" Bilbo asked.

Gandalf looked down at him. "Any what?"

"Other wizards."

"There are five," Gandalf replied, turning his gaze forwards again. "The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are two blue wizards... Do you know, I've quite forgotten their names..."

"Alatar and Pallando, Gandalf!" Alana called from slightly further back.

Gandalf nodded. "Oh, yes, that's right."

"And the fifth?" Bilbo asked curiously.

"That would be Radagast the Brown." Gandalf stated with a smile, glancing back when Alana grinned, recalling her single encounter with the eccentric brown wizard. Despite the rocky start (which was mostly her fault, because she'd almost killed one of his beloved rabbits whilst out hunting), the two had struck up a somewhat tentative friendship.

Bilbo hesitated. "And is he a great wizard or is he... more like you?"

Alana couldn't hold back her snort of laughter.

Thoroughly put-out, Gandalf huffed. "I think he is a very great wizard, in his own way. He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals over human beings. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the east, and a good thing too, for evil will always look to find a foothold in the world."

Alana frowned, good mood gone in an instant.

Had Gandalf noticed it, too? The Rangers of the North had realised a few years ago that an increased number of orcs were making it past Gondor's defences and into the lands west of the Misty Mountains. History showed that a sudden rise in orc numbers signalled that a new enemy was awakening. Their attentions caught, the Rangers had watched the lands around Mordor more closely, and noticed a shadow had been growing over the eastern half of the world. A threat. While little moved to or from the Black Lands, there was a definite stirring behind its gates. Alana had hoped that these new movements would lead to nothing, but Gandalf's words did not reassure her. Rather, they all but confirmed what she already feared.

A great danger was most assuredly on its way.

* * *

 

They arrived at an old farm later that day, just as the sun was setting. The rain had fallen hard, but hadn't lasted long, and so the latter half of the afternoon was spent in much higher spirits. The farmhouse sitting on the small hill above their camp was in a state of complete ruin, and Alana didn't want to think about what could have caused so much damage. She only half listened as Gandalf suggested they continue on and find refuge in Rivendell, but Thorin, stubborn as ever and ruled by his prejudices against elvenkind, refused to do so.

Rolling her eyes, Alana passed Eluviel over to Bifur's care and looked closer at the ruins of the farmhouse. Bits of the stone was covered in pale dust, suggesting that had been shattered; broken by force, and quite recently, given that the dust hadn’t yet been washed or blown away. A foul smell – quite weak now – lingered in the air. Dread was settling in Alana's mind. Dread, mixed with confusion. What in the world could cause so much damage this far south? If she didn't know better, she'd almost believe–

Gandalf suddenly stormed off past her, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Where are you going?" Bilbo asked, visibly alarmed. Alana frowned as she watched the fuming wizard. He was very rarely aggravated this much. _Would could Thorin have possibly said to him?_

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," the wizard snapped in response.

"Who's that?"

" _Myself_ , Mister Baggins!" As Gandalf left the camp, Alana distantly heard him mutter that he'd had enough of dwarves for one day. She couldn't help but chuckle under her breath at these words. It amused her greatly that Gandalf – a man as stubborn as the mallorn trees of Lothlórien – could be driven to his wits end by... well, by anyone. For that, she took her metaphorical hat off to Thorin.

"Right, let's get some food cooking," Bofur said, breaking Alana from her thoughts. She couldn't help but agree – her stomach had been feeling painfully empty for the better half of an hour.

Alana, in the corner of her eye, saw Bilbo turn a worried look towards Balin. "Is he coming back?" he asked quietly.

When he received nothing but silence from Balin, Alana spoke up, her voice soft and assuring. "He was the one who brought us into this. He would not abandon us, I promise you. I'm sure he just wants to clear his head." She turned her gaze towards Thorin, who was pointedly ignoring her. They hadn't shared so much as a word with each other for almost a month now – Thorin still refused to believe Azog was alive, and so Alana was content to just leave him with his thoughts until he decided they could start speaking again. Whether he believed her was irrelevant; _she_ knew the truth. Shaking her thoughts from her head, she turned her attention back to Bilbo, who was still looking rather unconvinced. "One thing you should know about Gandalf; he always appears exactly when you need him. As he will always claim: 'A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to'. He'll be back, I assure you."

Before Bilbo could reply, a different, far more commanding voice shattered the small silence.

"Fili, Kili, go watch over the ponies," Thorin barked, startling his nephews. They quickly scampered off.

 

* * *

It was dark by the time their food was ready. Having recently lost her appetite for some inexplicable reason that she determined had something to do with the sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach, Alana told Bombur that he could serve everyone larger portions. The only think she could bear to stomach was an apple. Bilbo was asked by Bofur to take two bowls to Fili and Kili, who were still watching the ponies – a job which Alana thought would be absolutely _riveting_. About half of her was glad it was not her out there, while the rest just felt sorry for the brothers who had been stuck with the dull task.

Just as Alana was lying down to rest, Fili and Kili burst into the camp. "Trolls!" Fili yelled.

Alana cursed and jumped to feet, running off in the direction they'd come from while everyone else questioned the brothers. Alana mentally rolled her eyes. Now _really_ wasn't the time to be asking questions. Since Bilbo had not appeared beside them, Alana automatically assumed he'd been caught.

True enough, when the trolls rolled into view, she found Bilbo in the hand of one of the three foul creatures. She silently drew her sword just as the dwarves arrived by her side. A silent agreement passed through the group that an ambush would give them greatest odds; an ambush coupled with the element of surprise.

Unfortunately, Kili didn't seemed to get that message. He didn't stop when the others did. He kept going. Right into the view of the great beasts. He slashed at the ankle of the nearest troll, which squealed and hopped away, before scuttling out of their reach.

"Drop him!" Kili snarled, holding his sword unwaveringly up to the trolls. His face showed not an ounce of doubt over the fact that he was facing three very large, very dangerous trolls.

They blinked stupidly. "You what?"

The dwarf Prince growled, his eyes narrowing. "I said... _drop him!_ "

After a glance at Bilbo, the troll who was holding him threw the hobbit at Kili, knocking them both to the ground. With an almighty war cry, the dwarves leapt forward, startling the trolls.

The battle was on.

Alana fought alongside her companions, pausing every now and then to watch in awed amazement as they pulled off some incredibly... strange moves that should have taken _months_ to perfect. On more than one occasion she was almost stepped on or caught during her moments of distraction, but she evaded the dense creatures with little trouble, as they seemed to be struggling to shift their attentions between all fourteen of their attackers. There was a particularly peculiar moment brought about when she accidently bumped into Dori, knocking him to the ground – and then consequently made his body a springboard-type thing for Nori, who used the extra height to slash at the arm of one of the trolls. All in all, very impressive.

"Stop!"

Alana snapped her head up to see Bilbo held in the clutches of two of the brutes, arms and legs spread wide.

"Lay down your arms, or we'll rip his off," the one troll that wasn't holding Bilbo ordered.

With a frustrated huff, Alana thrust her sword into the dirt. The other members of the company soon did the same, grumbling to make their annoyance known. In an instant, the group were caught by the trolls. The one that grabbed Alana roughly shoved her inside a sack. He then haphazardly threw her over to where the others were lying. Alana landed with an _'oof'_ on someone's legs, their heavy, steel-capped dwarfish boots pressing against her side. She glanced upwards, and found to both her and his distaste that she had landed on Thorin.

Could this night truly get any worse?

* * *

 

In any other circumstances, Alana would be half-rotted from boredom. She had been in the same position, unable to move, for _hours._ At some point, though exactly when this was she didn't know, the trolls decided that the best way to cook the dwarves was to slow-roast them. A select few of their group were being slowly rotated on the spit, each of them still wriggling furiously in an attempt to get free. The rest of the group – Alana included – were just... stuck in a seemingly endless wait.

The only thing she had to keep her occupied was troll-watching. And one of them, it seemed that, despite previous agreements, was starting to become impatient.

For about the fourth time in ten minutes, said troll huffed. "Don't bother cooking them," he complained, finally voicing his frustration. "Let's just sit on them and squash them into jelly."

"They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage," the 'cook' disagreed.

Dori scowled. "Is this really necessary?" he snapped.

"Ooh," the first troll said, ignoring the dwarf, "that does sound nice."

"Untie us you monsters!" Oin shouted, writhing in his sack a few feet from Alana, who simply rolled her eyes. As if _that_ would work.

"Take on someone your own size," Gloin snarled.

That caused everyone – except Thorin and Alana – to start yelling insults and whatnot, but Alana could hear the underlined tone of fear in many voices. Even she could admit that their chances of surviving this were not good.

The third troll, the hairiest of them all, suddenly growled. "Don't worry about the seasoning; we ain't got all night. Dawn ain't far away, so let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone." Alana's ears almost literally twitched at hearing this. She looked up at the sky. If her calculations were correct, dawn was only _minutes_ away.

"Wait!" Bilbo cried. He somehow managed to wriggle onto his feet, where he then jumped closer to the trolls. "You are making a _terrible_ mistake."

"You can't reason with them!" Dori cried. "They're half-wits!"

"Half-wits? What does that make us, then?" Bofur shouted back.

Bilbo ignored them. "Uh... I meant with, uh, the, uh, with the seasoning!" he stuttered out.

One of them cocked his head to the side, his interest caught. "What about the seasoning?"

"Well, have you smelt them? You're going to need something much stronger than sage before you plate this lot up," Bilbo said, somehow managing to sound... amused. A roar of outrage came from just about every mouth.

"Traitor!" Thorin shouted from above her, and Alana aimed a powerful kick at the hobbit's legs to get him to stop talking. She unfortunately missed.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" Hairy asked, suspicious.

The other, however, pushed his friend out of the way. "Shut up and let the... flurgaburburrahobbit talk."

Bilbo sent the troll a nod of thanks. "Uh... The secret to cooking dwarf is to, umm..."

"Yes, come on."

"It's, uh..."

"Tell us the secret," the troll probed.

"Yes, I'm _telling_ you. The secret is to... _skin them_ first!"

The hobbit looked so proud of his answer that Alana wanted to punch the expression right off his face. Unfortunately, in her current position, she couldn't do that. So, she resorted to yelling, instead. "Bilbo, shut your damn mouth!"

The troll closest to Bilbo smirked. "Tom, get me filletin' knife."

"If I get you, you little–"

"I won't forget that!" Dwalin growled, interrupting Gloin midsentence.

'Tom' sneered. "What a load of rubbish! I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all."

The first one nodded in agreement to his friend. "'e's right. Nothin' wrong with a bit of raw dwarf. Nice and crunchy." The troll grabbed Bombur and held him up over his mouth, apparently not bothered by the large dwarf's struggling.

"No, not him! He's infected!" Bilbo shouted.

"You what?"

"Yeah," Bilbo said, "he's got worms in his... tubes." With a squeak, the troll dropped Bombur back onto the pile of dwarves (and one human) on the floor. The ginger dwarf landed heavily on Alana's stomach, causing her breath to escape her lungs. Thankfully, Bombur had the sense to roll off her stomach, allowing her to breathe again. Still, the fact he rolled _onto her legs_ didn't make her feel that much better. The dwarf was, as it turned out, just as heavy as he looked. "In fact, they all have!" Bilbo added quickly. "They're infected with parasites. It's a terrible business; I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

"Parasites! Did he say parasites?!" Oin roared.

"We don't have parasites, you have parasites!" Kili cried.

Someone suddenly shoved Bombur away, and Alana found herself being lifted. "What about 'er?" the troll asked, prodding at her.

"Get your filthy face away from me!" Alana growled, only to gasp when the troll's hand squeezed around her.

"She clearly don't have parasites!"

It was peculiar how sometimes moments of realisation could come in the strangest of situations. As she was staring at the troll's face, trying not to vomit as the stench of its breath hit her, the meaning of Bilbo's words hit home. Alana finally understood. The little hobbit was not saving his own skin, as she had originally thought, but rather buying them all time for the sun to rise. "Yes, I do," she said hurriedly. "We all do." The troll narrowed his eyes at her, before he was distracted by a dull _thump._ Suddenly, the dwarves started agreeing with her.

"I've got parasites as big as my arms."

"Mine are the biggest parasites. I've got huge parasites."

"We're riddled."

"I'm riddled."

"Yes, we are. Badly."

"What would you have us do? Let them all go?" The troll narrowed his eyes at Bilbo. "You think we don't know what you're up to? This ferret's takin' us all for fools!"

Bilbo huffed, indignant. "Ferret?"

"Fools?"

Gandalf suddenly appeared on top of a rock behind the trolls. "The dawn will take you all!" he shouted.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat 'im too?"

With a powerful thrust, Gandalf's staff struck the rock, splitting it in half. Sunlight streamed through the gap. Shouting out in pain, the trolls quickly became motionless, their greasy, smelly skin quickly turning to cracked stone. Alana's eyes widened in fear as the troll holding onto her tightened his grip around her. She groaned loudly as her ribs creaked in protest, and she wriggled violently, trying to free herself. But then the troll gave one last squeeze, and her ribs failed. Several loud cracks echoed through the forest, only to be drowned out by Alana's piercing scream, before the Ranger slumped forward, unconscious.

* * *

Thorin stared up at Alana, a concerned frown on his face. The troll had clearly snapped her ribs, and the resulting pain must have consumed her. But now she was stuck in the stone hand of a troll. Gandalf approached the troll and muttered some words under his breath, before tapping his staff against the hand of the troll. Instantly the whole arm turned to dust, and Alana dropped like a stone from eight feet up. Thankfully, Dwalin was stood prepared to catch her.

Thorin felt a potent fear strike him when her skin paled significantly at the contact, and he rushed to the Ranger's side, swiftly ripping the sack away from her body. Gandalf pressed his hands against Alana's ribs the moment it was removed, chanting again. Thorin watched in awe as Alana's ribs corrected themselves audibly, creaking back into their correct places, and her breathing became easier. Gandalf let out a tired sigh of relief.

Grateful for the reprieve, Thorin turned to the grey wizard. "Where did you go, if I may ask?"

"To look ahead," Gandalf replied vaguely.

"What brought you back?

"Looking behind." He looked out over the plains, then at the three dead bodies of the trolls, now strangely shadowed in the light of the early dawn. "Nasty business. Still, you're all in one piece." Then he glanced at Alana. "For the most part, anyway."

"No thanks to your burglar," Thorin huffed.

"He had the nous to play for time," Gandalf defended quickly. "None of the rest of you thought of that." Thorin supposed the wizard was right. It seemed the hobbit had more brain than brawn, and while not overly helpful in the grand scheme of things, he could not deny they may well owe their lives to the hobbit's quick thinking. Gandalf tilted his head to the side. "They must have come down from the Ettenmoors."

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" Thorin inquired.

"Oh, not for an age. Not since a darker power ruled over these lands." He frowned thoughtfully. "They could not have moved in daylight."

Thorin perked up. "There must be a cave nearby."


	5. Warg Hunt

Groaning, and feeling like there was a throbbing ache searing its way through her entire body, Alana's eyes peeled open. She found herself lying on the ground, and when she looked around her, she saw the company were all sat nearby, talking quietly or – in the case of Fili and Kili – laughing raucously with one another. The loud noise sent a painful thrill through Alana's head. With great difficulty, the Ranger picked up a stray stick from beside her and threw it at the brothers. It hit Kili square in the back of his head, and within a split-second his eyes turned to her.

"Alana, you're awake!" he cried, scrambling over to her side. Fili followed behind at a far more sedate pace.

Alana narrowed her eyes at him. "Keep the noise down, will you?" she grumbled, rubbing her right temple in frustration.

"Sorry."

"What happened?"

Kili frowned in concern, his brown eyes quickly scanning over her form. "Well, you were practically crushed by that troll. It broke eight of your ribs, Oin thinks. Gandalf managed to free you and fix them, thankfully. Once you're okay to walk, we'll be looking for their cave."

Frowning slightly, Alana asked, "Why haven't you done so already?"

"Thorin didn't want to leave you without someone to keep an eye on you, and he didn't want to split up the company, just in case something happened," Fili told her, seating himself on her other side. "So, our orders are to wait."

"Just give me twenty minutes and some water, and I'll be fine." The brothers gave her a blank look. "For my headache. My ribs are sore, but hardly anything unmanageable." Lie. That was a lie; though it was thankfully one that the dwarves bought easily enough.

Kili nodded, before standing and rushing away to grab her waterskin, while Fili seated himself by her side. The two sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, before Kili came back. Grunting, Alana pushed herself into a seated position and accepted the waterskin with a grimace of thanks, before pulling off the stopper and taking a long drag. She then lay back down and stared at the canopy of leaves above her head.

* * *

 

True to her word, twenty minutes later they were on the move. The troll cave turned out to be easy to find, mainly because the trolls had left behind a long trail of their foul stench. Alana was one of the first to head inside, though she had to hold an arm over her nose to keep her from retching. It said much that she preferred the smell of grime and sweat that clung to her clothes over the stink of those trolls.

"Oh," Nori complained, "what's that stench?"

"It's a troll hoard," Gandalf replied simply. "Be careful what you touch."

Alana glanced around. There were gold and silver coins scattered across the cave floor, and there were dusty weapons gathered in little clusters here and there, most of them nearer to the walls. Her eyes fell upon a small glint of silver hidden amongst the dried foliage. She walked over to it and knelt down, shifting aside leaves and mud alike to find it. It was a ring. The ring had an image of a horse head with eyes made of purple gemstones. It looked old – very old – but there wasn't a single scratch on it. Instead, its shine and grandeur had been slowly worked away as time had passed, and as mud-dust had built up on its delicate frame. Rubbing off the dirt, Alana was impressed by its simple elegance and charm. Carefully examining its size, Alana experimentally slipped it onto her right ring finger. It was a little big, so she then moved it to her forefinger. Now, it fit perfectly.

With a satisfied smile, Alana turned just in time to here Gandalf's loud, sharp bark of, "You could not wish for a finer blade."

She turned to see Thorin reluctantly keep hold of what she assumed to be an elvish blade, if Gandalf's words and Thorin's mildly disgusted face were anything to go by. Alana, after letting her eyes sweep the cave one last time, left, finally having enough of the rancid stench.

She breathed a sigh of relief upon meeting the fresh air once more. She perched herself on the edge of a boulder while waiting for everyone else to emerge from the cave, and began idly playing with the ends of her hair, which needed a very thorough wash.

Suddenly, she heard a distant noise and looked sharply around, her senses on high alert.

It seemed she wasn't the only one to notice something was amiss.

"Something's coming!" Thorin shouted.

"Stay together!" Gandalf ordered, his voice urgent but not panicked. "Hurry now. Arm yourselves."

The group then ran off into the woods, each armed with their respective weapon. Alana drew her blade and quickly adjusted her grip on the hilt of her sword in preparation for an attack.

Suddenly, a loud shout was heard, fast approaching. "Thieves! Fire! Murder!"

A strange man in tatty robes and a hat on his head suddenly burst into view. Alana grinned. It was Radagast. Gandalf was visibly relieved also, causing the dwarves to relax a little. "Radagast! Radagast the Brown. Ah. What on earth are you doing here?"

Radagast looked up at the grey wizard. "I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

"Yes?"

Radagast opened his mouth to say something, but then paused. He repeated the action, yet seemed to have completely forgotten what he was going to say. Alana couldn't help but roll her eyes. It was an unfortunately common habit of the wizard's. "Oh, I had a thought, and now I've lost it. It was right there on the tip of my tongue!" Radagast suddenly widened his eyes. "Oh," he said, sounding as if pleasantly surprised. "It's not a thought at all! It's a silly old" – Gandalf, with a calm face, pulled a wiggling bug from the wizard's mouth – "stick insect!"

Alana suddenly walked up to them and whispered to the grey wizard. "I suggest, if this is private, you take this elsewhere. These dwarves aren't good at restraining themselves. They'll likely be listening." She then nodded her greeting to Radagast and offered him a small smile, which he returned half-heartedly. It must have been a serious topic if he could barely manage a simple smile.

Gandalf nodded and then the two of them walked off. Alana joined the rest of the group, seating herself on a suitable rock. The dwarves left her alone to her thoughts, and so missed it when excitement suddenly rose up on her face. _We're near Rivendell!_ she realised, eyes brightening at the thought.

Shattering her good mood, a loud howl split the air. In an instant, they were all on their feet, weapons drawn. Alana put away her sword and drew her bow instead. She notched an arrow against the string and waited, her ears straining and her eyes flickering over the land with a frantic pace. She should have known better than to let her guard down.

"Was that a wolf?" Bilbo asked shakily. "Are there... Are there wolves out there?"

"Wolf? No, that was not a wolf," Bofur informed him, grasping the handle of his mattock strongly.

From above them, a horrific creature lunged onto one of the dwarves. It had a squashed face, snarling and growling at them. A warg. Thorin slashed at it with his new blade and killed it swiftly. Another appeared behind Kili, who spun and let his arrow fly, bringing it down. Unfortunately, it was on its feet again very quickly. Alana loosed her own arrow, ignoring the loud protests of her ribs, and it struck the beast in the skull. The warg finally died, letting out a weak, pathetic whine as it did.

"Warg scouts," Thorin hissed dangerously, venom in his voice. "Which means an orc pack will not be far behind."

"Orc pack?!" Bilbo squeaked.

Gandalf moved forward, an urgency to his voice when he spoke. "Who did you tell about this quest, beyond your kin?" he demanded.

"No one."

"Who did you tell?!" Gandalf snapped.

"No one, I swear!" Thorin stepped forward, as if to emphasise what he said, and for the first time since they had met, Alana thought she saw signs of true fear on the dwarf's face. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You're being hunted," the grey wizard said solemnly.

Dwalin narrowed his eyes. "We have to get out of here."

"We can't!" Ori cried from the top of the hill. "We have no ponies; they bolted."

Alana looked up in surprise, thinking it odd that Eluviel would flee too. But, then again, the horse probably knew where she was, and so would head straight for Imladris. And if the elves saw her coming without a rider, they might send out a scouting party. That could be a good thing for the company's chances of survival. Provided, of course, that the elves arrived in time.

"I will draw them off," Radagast suddenly piped up.

Gandalf looked at his friend, wide eyed. "Those are Gundabad wargs! They will outrun you."

Radagast smirked. "These are Rhosgobel rabbits; I'd like to see them try."

Alana might have laughed, had the situation not been so dire.

Gandalf watched as Radagast disappeared, before motioning to the company. "This way."

They escaped the confines of the trees and ran across the adjoining plains. As they ducked behind a rock, Alana watched Radagast weave in and out of the rock formations, the wargs following, snapping their jaws and snarling at him. The mad wizard was whooping joyously, as if this was the most fun he'd ever had. "He's completely mad," Alana muttered to herself, watching as he ducked below an overhanging rock and then laughing gleefully when the rider of the warg right behind him was knocked from its perch on the beast's back.

"Move," Thorin ordered, and they ran again. They moved quickly and quietly, darting from rock to rock. Alana's newly-healed ribs continued to protest against the harsh movement of running, and every time they paused she would wrap her empty arm around her side, as if to hold herself together. It would be no good for her to undo the wizard's good work so soon after the wound was inflicted (though she had little choice at this point).

At the next boulder Ori almost gave away their position, not realising his kin were stopping around him, but thankfully Thorin was able to reach out, grab the dwarf by the hood, and pull him back behind cover. Alana watched as the orc pack continued to chase Radagast, wondering when they were going to realise it was just a distraction.

As they paused again, Alana heard the deep panting of a warg, as well as the wheezing breaths of an orc, coming from above her head. Thorin, too heard it, for he gave Kili and Alana a quick nod. The younger Durin brother silently notched an arrow to the string of his bow, and Alana did the same. They exchanged a glance, and Kili mouthed the word 'warg' to her, pointing to his chest. She nodded her head in agreement. After breathing in deeply, they darted out from behind the rock and shot their respective targets, Alana letting out a hissed curse as the movement of her arm going back caused a sharp pain to resonate from her side. The warg received an arrow to the neck, and the orc, an arrow to the chest. The warg tumbled gracelessly off the rock, both creatures crying out. Thorin, Dwalin and Bifur quickly despatched them both, but the damage was done. The warg pack had undoubtedly heard them.

"Run!" Gandalf cried, all attempts at being discrete quickly abandoned in exchange for the need for swiftness. Grabbing hold once again of her throbbing ribs, Alana limped alongside the dwarves, each step now sending a wave of fresh pain through her torso. She had a feeling she knew where Gandalf was leading them, and her suspicions were only increased when the wizard refused to answer Thorin's question of where they were going. For one, insane moment, excitement bubbled up in her stomach again, before she remembered their situation, and it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

They stopped at a clearing, not able to run any further. "We're surrounded!" Fili cried, his head whipping from warg to warg in desperation.

"Stay together!" Thorin ordered, gripping his sword hilt tightly. Alana did the same, though she only had one arm to use, as the other was still gripping her side. "Kili, shoot them!" Thorin ordered. Alana was silently grateful that he seemed to realise that she was in no form to use her bow effectively.

Kili obeyed and fired arrows at the wargs as fast as he could manage, but they seemed to be endless in their numbers, and every time he shot down one, another would take its place.

"Where's Gandalf?"

"He's abandoned us!"

"Hold your ground!" Thorin shouted. 

Alana swivelled on her feet, listening intently to the distant sound of hooves. She dared to hope that it would be an elven scouting party.

"This way, you fools!" Gandalf shouted, emerging from the rock face behind them.

Alana followed the dwarves towards the cave hidden behind the rock, however paused when she reached it, refusing to go down until she was sure all the dwarves were safe. As Kili slid down the escape route, a horn sounded. Alana glanced to her right and saw several horses making their way towards them. Boldly, she grabbed hold of Thorin's coat and pushed him down, before moving forward to slash at the warg that attempted to follow them. She had little to do after that, as the elves easily finished the ones that didn't flee. When the last warg was dead, Alana found herself quickly surrounded. One of the elves stepped forward, and smiled when he saw her.

"Ah, Lady Alana. What are you doing out here?" he asked.

Alana smiled and respectfully bowed to him with the traditional elven greeting of a hand over the heart, ignoring this flash of pain that lanced through her side. "My Lord Elrond," she greeted. "I happened to be making my way to Rivendell when the wargs appeared. Eluviel went ahead. You didn't happen to come across her, did you?"

At her words, the grey mare stepped forward, tossing her head. Alana let out a quiet breath of relief and quickly mounted, though she grimaced when her ribs twinged again. The elven hunters then turned in the direction of Rivendell, Alana now riding alongside the Lord Elrond. "Estel will be thrilled to see you," he said.

Alana smiled, longing and anticipation on her young face. "It's a shame I wasn't there for his birthday. I trust you spoiled him."

Elrond laughed. "Your mother wouldn't allow for anything else. Despite all his smiles though, I know Estel would have much preferred that you were there to celebrate with him. He misses you greatly."

"There isn't a day that goes by where I don't miss him," Alana admitted. She glanced at him. "I should warn you; Gandalf's on his way. And he's got company."


	6. Arrival In Rivendell

Alana and the elves arrived back in Rivendell after only twenty-five minutes or so, the noon sunlight was bearing down hard on their backs. Alana couldn't help but chuckle under her breath when she saw the confused and alarmed group of dwarves ahead, pressing themselves into a tight group as they approached. The horses of the elves neatly surrounded and circled them, Alana disguised in their number. Elrond dismounted and greeted Gandalf warmly, and Gandalf did the same in return.

As Alana dismounted her horse – causing a few dwarves to finally notice her presence – she heard Elrond speak in the common tongue, having previously been using the lilting elvish language. "Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near."

"Ah, that may have been us," Gandalf admitted, slightly sheepish. Alana was greatly amused by this, for Gandalf rarely admitted to guilt. Still, the grey wizard knew when tact and charm was necessary, and it most certainly was now, possibly more than ever.

Thorin chose that moment step forward. Elrond looked calmly down at him. "Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Anything that may or may not have been said by the exiled dwarven King was interrupted by a child's enthusiastic shout. "Alana!"

Alana tilted her head up the steps nearby to see a young boy with shoulder length, messy, dark hair and sparking grey eyes running towards her. "Estel!" Alana grinned as she met him, scooping him off his feet and swinging him around in a loving embrace. Though her injuries tugged and pulled in protest, she didn't pay them any heed. Aragorn was laughing into her hair, gripping her tightly in a way that made her think he didn't ever want to let go. And she was inclined to agree. After a long while, Alana finally put her little brother down.

Aragorn was around the same height as the smaller dwarves, the main difference between them marked by his young and innocent face. He beamed up at her. "I've missed you." Then he pouted mockingly. "You're late."

Alana laughed and good-naturedly ruffled his hair. "Sorry, Estel." She looked at the company, who were watching her with interest. "If you gentlemen will excuse me." She bowed to them, before she grabbed Eluviel's reins and began leading her towards the stables. Aragorn joined her eagerly.

"Why are you with dwarves, Alana?" he asked her.

Alana glanced down at him and smiled. "Mithrandir requested my presence among them. They seek to reclaim their home."

Aragorn looked startled. "Is it dangerous?"

She hesitated for a second, before nodding. "Yes, very."

"No more than usual, then!" the young boy chirped with a grin, and Alana laughed.

As they entered the stables, Alana caught sight of a familiar form. "Glorfindel," she acknowledged politely. He smiled at her entry, a single lock of his blonde hair falling in front of his face – a lock he quickly pushed aside.

"Alana," he greeted, his wise, blue eyes sparkling in that familiar elvish way. "It's been a while."

"It has indeed, _mellon nín_. Any sign of the twins?" she asked as she began pulling Eluviel's packs off her back.

"They're out scouting for the moment. They should be back by nightfall," the elf replied. He then said a brief hello to Aragorn, before sweeping out of the stables.

Alana turned to Aragorn. "I have something for you, though I apologise for the lateness of it."

Aragorn beamed. "You remembered!"

Snorting, Alana rolled her eyes. "Of course I remembered," she shot back, feigning an indignant look. "Did you think I would? I'm insulted, _muindor_." When Aragorn just stared expectantly up at her, she rolled her eyes. "Come here."

Aragorn eagerly approached, running his small hand over Eluviel's grey coat as he did. "What is it?"

Alana grinned as she pulled out the elegant black bow. The young boy gasped at the sight, a wide grin spreading over his lips. Alana knelt before him as she passed him both the bow and the arrows. "This bow has been made from the wood of a mallorn tree, so should last you most – if not all – of your life." She kissed his forehead.

Aragorn looked up, and she was startled to see tears in his eyes. Alana frowned, worried she'd somehow upset him. She was reassured, however, when he threw his arms around her with a strength she didn't know he possessed. "Thank you," he whispered. He drew back and smiled, before looking closely at the bow. "It's very beautiful."

Alana chuckled. "Come on. No doubt you're dying to try it out."

Aragorn grinned and ran out of the stables. Shaking her head in amusement, Alana followed, her long strides meaning she could more or less keep up with him, though he did occasionally have to pause to let her catch up whenever he pulled too far ahead. They reached the training area without meeting anyone else. Even from this distance, though, she could hear the dwarves' racket. Shaking her head once more, Alana turned to face her brother.

"Exactly what training have you had when using the bow?" she asked.

Aragorn frowned. "None at all. Lord Elrond kept saying that I couldn't learn yet. He didn't tell me why."

Alana smiled, internally thinking she'd have to thank the elven Lord for that later. "Well, in that case, get into the position you'd be in if you were about to fire, and I'll see what adjustments I can make."

Aragorn nodded and uncertainly drew the string of his new bow back, grasping the arrow tightly. Alana approached him and shifted him slightly. She turned his body sideways and gently pressed his shoulders down. She then glanced him over. "You're holding the arrow wrong," she said bluntly. "By holding it with your hand, you are twisting the arrow. If you let it go like that, it'll veer off in the wrong direction. Try to hold it between your thumb and forefinger, as if you're pinching something." Frowning, Aragorn changed his grip on the arrow. Alana briefly looked him over again. He could not pull the string back all the way, by any means, but she never expected a ten-year-old to be able to. In fact, she was expecting a smaller distance than he was currently achieving. "Good," she said with an approving nod. "Now, let's see your aim."

Alana found it reassuring to see her little brother with a bow in his hands, which she knew made absolutely no sense, but was true nonetheless. She watched as his shoulders rose and fell a few times, before he let go of the string and sent the arrow flying. Alana looked at the target and found it hit the outside ring of the target. A grin spread across her lips. Aragorn beamed.

Smiling, Alana clapped him on the shoulder. Before she could say anything however, an elf maid came up to them both. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Lord Elrond would like to talk to you, Lady Alana."

Alana nodded. "Okay." She looked down at her pouting brother. "Sorry, Estel. Perhaps I can persuade Kili to help you. He's an archer too, I'll have you know." With a parting smile, she left the training area to head for Lord Elrond's study.

On the way, she rather conveniently ran into the Durin brothers. "Hello, Lady Alana," Fili greeted with a bow.

Shaking her head whilst simultaneously rolling her eyes, Alana looked at the younger brother. "I'm sorry to ask this of you Kili, but you wouldn't be willing to do me a favour, would you?"

He shrugged. "That would depend on the favour."

"I have an excited little brother with no one to teach him how to properly shoot. I've been called to see Lord Elrond, so I was wondering if you'd give him some help." She tried to make her voice sound normal, but even she could detect the pleading, hopeful tone to it.

Kili grinned. "Sure, no problem, sounds like fun. Come on, Fee." He then grabbed his brother's wrist and dragged him down the corridor, the blonde's complaints echoing on the smooth stone.

"Kili, let me go... Kili, I can walk on my own! ... Mahal, Kee, _let go of my wrist!_ "

With a fond chuckle, Alana quickly made her way to Elrond's study, and when she reached the door she became achingly aware of her state. Blood and dirt sat on her hair and on her clothes, and no doubt she absolutely stank. Sighing, Alana knocked twice.

"Enter."

Alana opened the door and then gently closed it behind her. She looked up at her foster-father. "You sent for me?"

Elrond smiled at her in that peculiarly restrained way that he always did. It had been many years since Alana had witnessed him give a true smile. "I did indeed." The elven Lord walked around his large desk, which was covered in tomes, maps and who knows what else.

Alana smiled apologetically as she spoke. "Before you say anything, I would just like to thank you."

Surprise flickered across Elrond's eyes and face. "Whatever for?"

"For keeping your promise."

It seemed to take a moment for Lord Elrond to recall what this promise was, but eventually he smiled. "Was he happy?"

Alana laughed. "He was ecstatic."

Elrond chuckled. "I'm not surprised. I know he aspires to be just like you." He then placed his hands on Alana's shoulders and somehow managed to force Alana's gaze to meet his. Sharp eyes that glistened in the light of day stared unblinking at her, and Alana felt as if he were delving into her very soul. Perhaps he was. "Why?" Elrond finally asked.

"Why what?"

"Why join Thorin Oakenshield's quest?"

Alana narrowed her eyes. "How much about it do you know?"

"I _know_ very little. However, I do have some strong suspicions as to the true nature of this journey. Thorin Oakenshield has visited his kin in the Iron Hills many times in the past, but never before has be taken this route to do so, nor has he been accompanied by so many. No, I believe his destination to be the Lonely Mountain. His plan is to reclaim it for his people. Am I right?" Alana pursed her lips, and remained quiet, though she knew her silence was enough of an answer. Lord Elrond nodded. “So, given that you and I both know what you will face in the future, I want to know your motives for joining them.”

Alana hesitated, then released a quiet sigh. "Three reasons, mainly." At Elrond's inquiring look, she explained. "First, because you know I love adventures, no matter how dangerous. Second, because Gandalf asked me to, and given all the help he has offered me in the past, I felt I owed him this. And third..." She paused as she felt the familiar heat behind her eyes. Clenching her hands into fists at her side and fervently willing herself not to cry, she said, "Because I know what it feels like to lose a home. I know how it feels to have your very existence crumble before your eyes. My home is lost forever, but theirs is not. They are reclaiming it. And I want to help them. I want to see the looks that cross their faces when they step inside the Lonely Mountain for the first time in over a century."

For a moment, Elrond was silent. Then a tiny smile graced his lips. "Your father would be proud of you. You are like him in so many ways." To this, Alana only smiled sadly. Elrond's grip on her shoulders tightened slightly. "You may not think this true, but wherever he is, I can assure you Arathorn is watching over you." He then removed his hands, returning them back to his sides. "Now, I have ordered for your usual room to be prepared, and have requested a bath be drawn for you. They are ready whenever you are."

Alana smiled genuinely. "Thank you, Lord Elrond." She bowed politely, before turning around and leaving, the door closing quietly behind her.

She made her way quickly to her room, eager to rid herself of these filthy, sticky clothes. Before she had even finished stripping them off, an elven maid came in and prepared Alana's favourite soaps for her bath. A mix of lavender, water lily, chamomile and orange. Thanking her as she left, Alana gently lowered herself into the bath. Weeks of tension suddenly seemed to wash away. For several minutes, Alana just sat in the bath, letting the water pull away the less stubborn dirt and blood from her skin.

Grabbing a soap bar from the edge of the bath, Alana then began to scrub her skin free of its extra coating, taking extra care not to put too much pressure over her torso. Dark purple bruises had formed over her ribcage, and while the wounds were almost healed, she knew it would most likely take a few more days for the ache to die down completely.

She submerged herself completely in the water, before changing her soap and washing out her hair.

By the time she was properly clean, the bath water was a murky, muddy brown. With a small huff, Alana pushed herself out of the bath. She grabbed a towel from its place on the back of the door, before drying herself thoroughly. Alana then wrapped a white silk robe around herself and padded barefoot back to her room. Her clothes had been taken away, no doubt to be washed and repaired. In their place, an elegant indigo blue and gold dress was laid out on the bed for her. Sighing, Alana let the robe fall off her shoulders and quickly pulled on the dress. She was just tying her hair up in a messy bun when there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she called to whoever it was.

Her maid poked her blonde head around the door. "The dwarves are dining on the main balcony, my lady. I just thought I'd tell you."

Alana smiled gently. "Alright, thank you for letting me know."

The maid nodded and was about to leave, but then she stopped. "One more thing, my lady; Estel wishes to join them, but asked for your permission."

Alana's smile widened considerably. "Tell him to come here, please."

Bowing her head, the maid ducked out of the room. Alana turned back to her mirror and finished with her hair. Her gaze then fell on her new ring. Alana never claimed to have an abundant knowledge of jewellery, having little need or want for gems or precious stones, but she had never seen anything quite like it. She'd have to inquire about it to Lord Elrond later.

Another knock, this one far sharper, sounded on the door. Alana walked over to it and opened it herself. Aragorn was there, dressed in fine clothes. He looked her critically up and down, before his gaze fell on her face. He grinned. "You look like a Princess!"

The irony of it made Alana laugh. Aragorn didn't know of their lineage yet, and probably wouldn't know for another ten years. Alana had been told when she was twenty and, as far as she knew, it would be the same for her little brother. "And you, a Prince." She offered him her hand. "I believe we have a dinner to go to."

Aragorn grabbed her hand eagerly, and the two made their way along the corridors. Alana's bare feet made no noise on the smooth stone, and only a quiet patter came from Aragorn's steps. "Master Kili is a nice person," Aragorn stated conversationally. "He helped me with my archery for a while."

"Is he a good teacher?"

Aragorn nodded. "Definitely. I managed to shoot in the middle circle three times in a row, and he was very encouraging." He glanced up at her. "He reminds me of you, actually."

Alana frowned. "How so?"

"Well, you both speak the same way. Encouraging yet straight to the point. I like that. And also, he acts like you." Aragorn shrugged. "It's difficult to explain."

"No, I think I understand."

Alana smiled down at her brother just as they turned the last corner and came upon the main balcony, where the dwarves were sitting at two long tables. Another had been set up a little away and the more important diners sat there; Lord Elrond, Gandalf and Thorin. Alana was surprised the King's nephews weren't among the group. All three tables, however, looked up on their entry. In a rare show of shyness, Aragorn moved to hide behind Alana. The older sibling laughed, patting him gently on the shoulder, before looking up at her company. They were all wide eyed, the exceptions being Gandalf, Elrond and Thorin, and were looking her over in appraisal. Something about Thorin's face as he scrutinised her dress made her wonder if she'd done something to upset him – his eyes were a little more intense than normal, and his entire body had grown as still as stone.

Alana pushed that aside and instead rolled her eyes, laughing again. In doing so, she broke most out of their strange dazes. "Yes, I am wearing a dress. There's no need to act so surprised." Most chuckled at this comment, and then Fili invited the siblings to sit in the two empty chairs beside him. Alana sat at the very end of the table, and Aragorn sat sandwiched between her and Fili. The Ranger immediately began to help herself to the healthy food in front of her, Aragorn quickly following her lead. She saw most of the dwarves weren't eating anything. Rolling her eyes, Alana piped up, "You know, it would probably be a good idea for you to eat something."

"There's no meat," Ori complained.

"Of course there isn't!" Aragorn said. "This is only the starting course."

At their surprised or blank looks, Alana explained, "Elves always start their meals with salad first. It has something to do with preparing the body for a greater meal, I think. Elves _do_ eat meat, just like everyone else, they just have special rules when it comes to hunting."

"Like what?" Kili asked, still ignoring the food in front of him.

"It has to have been done quickly and painlessly," Alana explained. "Elves have a strong love of nature and animals, and the idea of eating an animal that had a painful death is not one they take lightly." She smiled. "Just try some. You might find you like it."

Though some still adamantly refused, many of the dwarves finally tried a mouthful of the greens. A few seemed pleasantly surprised, and quickly began eating the rest. Most apparently didn't care much for it, but in the end, they ate it all anyway. It wasn't long before the dwarves were boisterously chatting amongst themselves. Despite their surroundings, it seemed it was business as usual.

Alana was glad to see Aragorn was talking to Fili. In fact, she was the only one on this table not speaking. Not that she minded. Instead, she used this time to examine her ring. There was something about it that rang a distant bell in the back of her mind. She had spent half of her first few years in Rivendell under the tutelage of Lord Elrond, and so had probably been told about it before, however she couldn't bring the memory forward. She glanced up, then stood. Many looked her way, but Alana ignored their glances and made her way straight towards Elrond. The elven Lord merely raised his eyebrows at her.

Slipping the ring off her finger, she dropped it in front of him. Elrond picked it up and examined it closely. Surprise flickered over his face. "Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice extremely quiet.

"It was in the troll hoard. Why? What is it?"

"This is the crest of the Arodroch family; the breeders of the first of the mearas." Elrond said. "It is believed only three of these rings were ever made, and all were thought lost beyond finding again."

Alana frowned as she took the ring back, before slipping it onto her finger. "How old is it?"

"I could not tell you. The mearas are an ancient race; perhaps even as ancient as the ents of Fangorn Forest." Elrond frowned as he gazed at the ring. A tiny smile then graced his lips. "It seems to fit you." His warm eyes met hers. "Keep it. The rings were supposed to act as beacons for the mearas – perhaps one will sense it and come looking for you."

Alana blinked in surprise at the news, then nodded, twisting the ring on her finger absently. "I think I will, yes."


	7. Death of a Friend

Alana couldn't sleep. She was exhausted, and every muscle in her body was aching and begging for rest, but her mind wouldn't quieten. After two long hours of tossing and turning, Alana – with a frustrated, angry huff – finally gave up and kicked away her sheets, swinging her feet over the edge of her bed and standing. She picked up a white robe and put it on over her pale blue nightdress, before leaving her room.

It was not unusual for Alana to wander the corridors of Imladris at night. It was what she did whenever she couldn't sleep, and that was quite often; her frequent trips into the wildlands meant she had far too much energy left to spare in a place as calm and sedentary as Rivendell.

Before long, she came across Bilbo, who was stood in front of a stone plinth. On the plinth were several blade fragments. "The Shards of Narsil," she murmured, hoping to not startle the halfling. It didn't work. Bilbo jumped quite violently, turning his head sharply to face her. He seemed relieved when he saw who it was, letting out a loud breath. "This is the Blade That Was Broken, perhaps one of the last remaining remnants of the royalty of men from the Second Age."

"The Blade That Was Broken?"

Alana nodded as she walked over to him. "During the Great War against Sauron, this was the sword of Elendil, the King of the Two Kingdoms, Gondor and Arnor. Sauron was defeated by the combined efforts of Elendil and Gil-Galad, though both also perished in the fight." She gestured to the painting behind the hobbit. Bilbo turned around and gazed at it in awe.

"But what happened after that?"

Alana's look grew slightly dark. "Upon Sauron's hand was the One Ring. Isildur, the King's eldest son, took it, and bore it proudly. But the One Ring is said to have a will of its own, and in the end it betrayed him. Isildur was killed by orcs."

"Killed?" Bilbo frowned. "Does that mean, then, that he has no heir? Who rules over Gondor now?"

Alana blinked. "You do not know? I thought all knew of the tale."

Bilbo shook his head. "No, we hobbits don't often get involved with the affairs of Big Folk. I know about Sauron, of course – I expect there are very few who don't – but what happened in the aftermath remains a mystery to me."

She hummed thoughtfully. "Though many of Isildur’s sons died the same day, his youngest was safe with his wife. Here, in fact. In Rivendell. After Isildur came many sons and nephews of the crown, before the line of Kings ended with the disappearance of Eärnur, son of Eärnil. Since then, the rule of Gondor has been a task undertaken by a line of stewards. For nearly a thousand years Gondor has had no true King."

"And heirs?" Bilbo asked. "Are there none left?"

Alana hesitated for a long time, but found herself feeling particularly forthcoming tonight, and it was difficult to say 'no' when in close proximity to the innocent, curious face of the little hobbit. "The world assumes not. But the truth is different."

"Then why have they not reclaimed their throne?" Bilbo asked, frowning.

Alana smiled. "There are only two who remain as direct descendants. One is not old enough to claim the throne. The other cannot claim it until she is the last surviving heir."

Bilbo seemed pensive. "You speak as if you know these people," he finally said.

"I know them very well; they lived in my village for a time, before it was burnt to the ground." Alana smiled at Bilbo and then turned around, leaving him to his thoughts. Still, she sent him a quiet "Goodnight, Bilbo," to which she received no reply.

Alana wandered until she came across a familiar, moonlit garden. This was one of her favourites, because if you went far enough, you came across a white, marble fountain. As she walked across the fresh grass, Alana began to think beyond the end of this quest. If she survived it – and it was quite a big 'if' – where would she go next? Gondor? Rohan? The Iron Hills (if they would allow her, of course)? Lothlórien? Back to Rivendell for a while? There were so many options open to her.

While Alana sat there on the fountain edge, deep in thought, she didn't hear someone approach until they were only a metre or two away. She turned to look at them, and offered a soft smile. "Couldn't sleep?"

Thorin shook his head as he stopped by her side. He remained standing. "I will find no rest in this place."

Alana snorted. "This is the last chance you'll get to have a proper night's sleep for a long time. Set your stubbornness aside and accept what is being offered. We will be moving again before long, and these are not the elves of Mirkwood."

Thorin stared at her. "You seem extremely comfortable around them."

Alana rolled her eyes at him. "Imagine if, after Erebor was taken, only one group of people agreed to take in your family. Would you not be grateful? Form a strong friendship?"

"I would, but elves turned my people away when we came to them," Thorin snapped.

Alana huffed in irritation. "Do not pin the actions of one person on an entire race. Thranduil is not like anyone else, and no one else is like him. Not even his own son. Especially not him."

"I cannot trust elves," Thorin said bitterly.

Alana whirled on him. "Yes, you can. You just can't trust Thranduil."

"He is an elf."

"He is one out of a number." Alana snapped. "And he is unique. Thranduil is selfish and greedy; he only acts on what he thinks will benefit him most. Other elves are not like that."

"All elves are the same. All elves are just like him."

"That makes as much sense as me judging every dwarf on Kili's recklessness, or Ori's quietness. If all elves were like him you would be locked in a prison cell right now, not given free rein to wander wherever you please." Alana took a deep breath and tried to control her frustration and growing anger. "I understand that you don't trust elves, and that is your choice, but those living here have given you their aid. The least you could do is be thankful and civilised." She then left the dwarf to his thoughts, knowing that, if she stayed with him too much longer, she would likely be nudged over the edge and would lose it completely.

Alana quickly returned to her room. She stopped short upon seeing her bed. Aragorn was sat on the edge, wringing his hands in front of him. She could see the remnants of tears on his face. Her anger immediately faded, replaced instead by intense concern.

Aragorn looked up at her. "I wondered where you were," he whispered weakly.

Alana dropped to her knees in front of him. "What's wrong?" she asked. The boy hesitated. "Estel?"

He shivered. "I don't know what it was." His voice was quiet, and he sounded unquestionably terrified. "At first, I thought it was a dream, but I don't think so anymore. It felt too real."

"What happened?" Alana asked, sitting beside him and pulling him gently into her arms.

Aragorn shuddered again, and clutched Alana's hand tightly. "I saw a big city built into the side of a cliff. It was white, and made of stone, and went up lots of levels. In front of it was a big army of black things. Orcs, I think. And there were screams, and lots of fire, and big oliphaunts. And then there was another army, all on horses. And after that came the green army. An army of skeletons; of the dead."

Alana stared at her little brother, wide eyed. That city was Minas Tirith. Aragorn had never seen it, but his description of it was uncanny in its accuracy. She gently stroked his hair. "I'm sure it's nothing," she said, softly and calmly, in an attempt to reassure him. She herself wasn't entirely sure she was convinced of her own words.

Aragorn shook his head. "It didn't feel like nothing."

Alana sighed and then undid her robe. "If it makes you feel better, you can stay here for the night. If any more nightmares come to you, just wake me up and tell me about them. Sharing something can make it easier to handle."

Aragorn bit his bottom lip and nodded. He then crawled under Alana's covers. She joined him a moment later and wrapped her arms around him, allowing him to snuggle up to her, his hand curling around the front of her dress. "Thank you," he murmured.

Alana kissed his forehead. "It's alright. If I can help in any way, I will, I promise."

Aragorn looked up at her. "When I'm old enough, and skilled enough, will you take me with you on some of your adventures? I want to see the world." His eyes still held some of their previous fear, but now Alana could also see hope bubbling behind the grey of his irises.

She smiled, recalling her conversation with the Durin brothers. "I will take you with me, if that is what you want at the time. Now, go back to sleep, Estel." Aragorn nodded, and closed his eyes. Alana watched him as he fell asleep, his breathing deepening and slowing. She gently tucked a stray lock of his hair behind his ear. Smiling, Alana closed her eyes and allowed sleep to embrace her.

* * *

 

When morning came, Alana woke to someone gently shaking her. Groaning, the Ranger rolled over and slowly opened her eyes. She winced when the harsh, bright sunlight hit her unprepared pupils. Blinking rapidly, Alana looked at whoever it was who woke her up.

Unsurprisingly, it was Aragorn. A tuft of his hair was sticking up, but he looked wide awake. "Get up, Alana!" he cried loudly, beaming. Apparently, he had put his disturbing dream far behind him.

Alana sighed. "Why?" she asked in a whiny, complaining manner that she only ever allowed her family to hear.

Aragorn giggled. "Because you're wanted."

"Who wants me?" Alana asked, sitting up and stretching.

Aragorn laughed again. "Your hair looks funny."

"So does yours," she quipped in return.

Aragorn pouted, sticking his tongue out at her and causing her to crack a grin. "The twins want to see you," he told her. "They said it's important. They're in the stables."

"Well, in that case, I don't need to hurry too much." Despite her words, she threw back the bed covers, and stood up.

The young boy rolled his eyes. "Just get changed, Alana."

Alana snickered and bowed. "Yes, my lord."

Laughing once again, Aragorn left her room, tugging the door closed behind him. Alana was glad to see her Ranger clothes - freshly cleaned, dried and repaired – folded on the chair in the corner of her room. She quickly pulled on the breeches, tunic and belt (all black) before tugging on her boots. She left her armoured corset vest and cloak on the chair. She did, however, place some weapons on her, just in case. 

She then left the room without doing up her hair, and headed straight for the stables. The twins, as promised, were there. "What did you two do this time?" she asked, exasperated.

They glanced at her in unison. Both had hazel eyes and the usual perfect faces that all elves possessed; the only difference between the two was that Elrohir had a tiny scar over his left eyebrow from a skirmish with an orc over four hundred years ago. "This one wasn't our fault," he said.

Elladan nodded. "We came across something on our patrol. It followed us here."

"It?" Alana repeated, walking up to them. She stopped dead when she saw the great beast standing by them. It was a horse with a stunning chocolate-brown coat and black hair. She had never seen anything quite like it.

They twins nodded. "We spoke to father and he mentioned you'd found an Arodroch ring," Elladan told her.

"So?"

Elrohir smirked. "This is one of the mearas, Alana. We believe it came here for you; perhaps the ring drew its attention to you."

Alana blinked. "Lord Elrond said that might be possible, but I didn't really think..." The twins smirked at her. Alana looked closer at the horse. He had four white stockings and was at least seventeen hands. His legs were thick and muscular, and Alana had never seen a finer steed. The horse gently nuzzled her hand when she brought it up to his snout. This brought an interesting thought to mind. Alana looked around the stables. "Where's Eluviel?"

They shifted, almost nervously, before Elrohir spoke up. "Eluviel was one of the fastest horses in the stables. We got an urgent report and the best were chosen to go. Glorfindel took her."

Alana looked around again. "Well, if it had been anyone else I'd be furious, but Glorfindel can keep her safer than others." She sighed, before turning back to the brown horse. "What's his name?"

Elladan shrugged, and Elrohir shook his head. "We don't know," Elladan replied. "This is not one of the mearas that appears in father's records. Since it appears to be drawn to you, we were hoping you might."

Alana frowned. "Why would I know his name? I've only just met him."

"It was just a hope."

Alana sighed, before smiling. "I don't suppose you've heard about Rivendell's guests...?"

They nodded. "The dwarves. We've even come across a couple. A grey haired one with an ear trumpet–"

"Oin," Alana told them automatically.

Elrohir smiled as he continued. "And a white haired one with a very curly, long beard."

"That would be Balin."

"You seem to know them well," Elladan commented.

Alana nodded, gently scratching behind the stallion's ear. "I travel with them."

Both the twins chuckled. "We should have guessed," they muttered in unison

At that moment, Fili and Kili walked into the stables, laughing with each other. They stopped when they saw Alana and the twins. "Ah, there you are!" Kili said eagerly, smiling at the Ranger. "We've been wondering where you'd got to." He glanced at the twins. "Would these be Elladan and Elrohir, by any chance?"

Alana grinned. "They would indeed."

"You spoke of us?" Elrohir asked, surprised.

Alana nodded. "Bilbo asked me about Rivendell, and then you came up."

"Something about ruining the peace of the place, I believe," Fili added, winking at her.

Alana rolled her eyes. "Elladan, Elrohir, these are Fili and Kili."

"Thorin Oakenshield's nephews?" Elladan raised his eyebrows.

"Correct." Alana turned back to the mearas. Indeed, Alana would love to take him with them, but she doubted the next part of their journey was suitable for horses, and she still had Eluviel. Not even the finest steed in all of history would make her give up her loyal friend. She gently ran her hand along the length of his coat. The horse shifted a little when her hand reached his tail, and she realised there was a scorch mark on his fur. It was a flame pattern. "Who did this to you?" she whispered, though she doubted she'd be heard over the enthusiastic talking of the two sets of brothers behind her. The horse snorted. Alana ran her hand slowly over the brand. She grinned. "Firebrand." Alana walked over to his head once more. "How about that for a name, hmm?" she asked him gently. The horse whickered and nudged her face. He then dipped his head. "I'll take that as a yes." Alana smiled, scratching the horse behind his ear.

At that moment, horns sounded, marking the arrival of the departed soldiers. Alana patted Firebrand one last time, before leaving the stables at a jog and following the others. She was grateful to see Eluviel and Glorfindel back alive, but they were accompanied by only a few others.

"Glorfindel, what happened?!" Elladan cried. "This is but a fraction of those who left."

Glorfindel dismounted, and Eluviel let out something akin to a whimper. He turned to a stableboy. "Get her looked at," he ordered with a hint of urgency in his tone. The stableboy bowed, and took Eluviel's reins. Alana eyed her with concern, and let out a choked gasp when she saw the deep gash on her rear left leg. "We were severely outnumbered," Glorfindel reported. "We managed to scatter the orcs, but we lost many in the fight."

"It's our fault," Kili murmured. Alana turned her eyes to see him look saddened and guilt-ridden. "Our presence here has drawn them close."

"They will not attack Rivendell, whether you are here or not," Glorfindel assured him. "Orcs have been a problem in these parts for many years. And with or without you, they are growing ever bolder. Today, tomorrow... They would have shown up eventually. Do not blame yourself for this, Master Dwarf."

"What happened to Eluviel?" Alana asked, worried about the answer she'd receive.

Glorfindel glanced sorrowfully her way. "She was caught by an orc blade. You have a determined horse, I will admit. Even after injury she did not stop."

Alana glanced at the stables, where Eluviel was no doubt being looked over. "Tell me it isn't fatal."

"The wound itself shouldn't have been," Glorfindel replied slowly, "but I know not if the blade was doused in one of the orcs' foul concoctions. Even if it wasn't, Eluviel's stubbornness may have made it far worse."

Alana snorted dryly, though it felt empty of humour. "She's been in the company of dwarves too long, it seems." She then left to head back to the stables. Eluviel was lying on her side, her head resting on the ground. She whickered softly when she saw Alana, who moved to sit down in front of her. Alana took Eluviel's head in her hands and placed it on her knees, gently stroking her nose. Every now and then Eluviel would snort softly or shift as the healer worked on her leg, but otherwise seemed not to notice any pain. Or was too stubborn to show it, which Alana figured was equally likely. The Ranger began humming quietly to her mare, still rubbing her long, grey nose.

Suddenly, the healer sat back. He appeared exhausted somehow, and he glanced at Alana with regretful eyes. Her heart sank. "The blade that struck her was poisoned," he muttered glumly. "It has gotten too far into her blood stream. I am sorry, but I cannot save her."

"How long has she got?" asked Alana.

"That depends on you," came the soft reply, as the healer washed his hands in the stream that ran through the stables to act as a drinking trough. "She has at most two hours to live, but she will spend that whole time in pain. Or we could put her down now."

Alana had tears running down her cheeks. Eluviel had been her horse for most of her life as a Ranger, and in that time they'd become close allies and friends. She looked down. "What do you think, El?" she asked quietly. "What is it you want?"

Eluviel nuzzled her head into Alana's lap, before lifting it to look at the healer. Alana knew what this meant. She sighed, let a few more tears fall, then nodded to the healer. His return nod was slow and sad. While Eluviel may not have been his horse, all elves felt the lives of others keenly in their minds, and the death of any good creature was not easy for them to witness. He got to work preparing everything while Alana just looked at Eluviel again. "She won't feel this," the healer assured her. "She'll just slip away."

Alana nodded, trying to hold back her sobs. It was heart-wrenching to watch the life drain from Eluviel's eyes. "May you find peace after death, my friend," she whispered, leaning over to kiss Eluviel's head. Then the Ranger lifted it up and slid her legs out, before lowering it gently to the ground again. Alana turned away and didn't look back. Instead, she went straight to Firebrand and swung herself onto his back. There came no complaint from him as she did so, and instead he remained completely still as she settled herself. " _Noro lim, Ylfruin_. I don't mind where, just ride fast and take me away from here."

Firebrand snorted and did so, bolting out of the stables with unnatural, unfaltering speed. He thundered past the twins, the Durin brothers and Glorfindel without slowing, and both he and Alana ignored their shouts. She just had to get away from here, and Firebrand seemed to understand that. And so they went, quickly losing sight of the Hidden Valley.


	8. Galadriel's Wisdom

For two days Alana travelled on Firebrand, circling around the Rivendell area yet unable to return to the place where she had lost one of her oldest friends. Firebrand galloped with astonishing speed and stamina. He tired only after a whole day at a full gallop, and even then, he stayed quick. In the end, Alana decided to go after the orcs who had caused her friend's death, but lost their tracks near the ancient watchtower of Amon Sûl. Eventually though, Alana forced herself to return to Imladris.

She left Firebrand in the stables to drink and rest, and made her way to what she liked to simply call The Bridge. It was a narrow stretch of roughly carved wood that connected the main part of Rivendell to a large gazebo on a rocky ledge. Alana liked this place.

When about halfway across the two-foot-wide bridge, she stopped and looked down. Far, far below her flowed the river.

"Alana, what in Durin's name are you doing?!"

Alana looked up at the shout and saw Kili rushing towards her. He stopped at the beginning of the bridge. "I'm looking at the river," she replied evenly.

"From up there?" he cried, his eyes wide and frantic.

Alana shrugged. "Why not?"

"You could fall."

Kili's shout had apparently caught the attention of the rest of the company, except Thorin and Dwalin, because they all came running. They, too, stopped beside their Prince and looked at her as if she were mad. None of them seemed intent on stepping onto the bridge itself.

Alana shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean, it doesn't matter?" Kili frowned deeply. "You would die."

Alana grinned. "Would I really?" She looked down again, then back at the company. "Then let's test that theory."

She let her leg hover over the empty space before her for a moment, before calmly stepping off the edge of the bridge.

A loud chorus of "No!" followed her down, but it was too late to do anything. Alana sucked in a deep breath just as her feet hit the water.

For a moment she was disorientated. Then, when she had regained her senses, she swam to the surface. She looked up to see the dwarves – well, about half of them – looking down the gorge. She had no idea where the rest were. Probably running to find her.

Alana laughed and let herself float on the water. She had fallen off that bridge when she was eighteen, and it had been then that she had learned that the river here was much deeper than it looked. Even after such a long fall, her feet didn't touch the riverbed.

She heard heavy footsteps and lots of heavy, quick breaths, and shifted her gaze to see Kili, Fili, Ori, Oin, Bilbo and Bofur running over to the river. She grinned at their shocked, terrified faces.

"How did you survive that?" Bofur asked in astonishment when they all finally saw her.

Alana smirked as she began swimming towards the shore. She hauled herself out of the water before replying. "The river's very deep there. Didn't even brush the bottom."

"But how did you know?" Fili demanded.

Alana wrung out her hair. "I fell off that bridge about six months after first coming here. I thought I would die at the time. It was then I found out it was far safer than it looked. It's even fun."

"Fun?!" they cried in unison.

Alana chuckled. "Huge adrenaline rush. And, I like heights."

"Right..." Fili frowned. "So, you don't just go after goblins and orcs, you also happened to be an adrenaline nut who likes heights."

"You really do have a death wish," Kili finished with a half-smile.

Alana rolled her eyes. "No, I don't. I'm just eccentric." She then stood up. "Now, if you gentlemen don't mind, I'm going to change. I've been wearing the same clothes for two days and now they're soaking wet." She bowed and then began walking away.

"Alana!"

Alana turned. "Yes, Kili?"

"Estel wanted to see you. He said if I saw you before him to direct you to his room."

Alana smiled. "Thanks for letting me know." She then turned around again.

Upon arriving at her room, she stripped off her clothes and then hung them over the railing of her balcony to dry in the warm sun and gentle breeze. She pulled on a thin, burgundy dress and combed through her hair. She wrung it out once more before tying it up in a fishtail braid. Before she could leave again, a soft knock sounded on her door.

"Yes?"

The door opened, and Gandalf stepped in. His smiled warmly at her. "It is good to see you are back."

Alana smirked. "I would never truly leave before my time, Gandalf. You know this."

Gandalf nodded his head, before a small frown flickered into place. "You have been gone a long time, Alana. Thorin has begun to... doubt you."

"Thorin has doubted me ever since we met. It goes against everything he is to allow a woman – and not even a dwarf woman – on this quest of his. And my relationship with the elves of this place irks him even more." Alana shrugged. "I care not what he thinks of me. I do what I think is best."

"He knows that," Gandalf said. "Yet your disappearance has made him even more apprehensive. I suspect he thinks you are not his friend, but rather in league with the orcs that pursue them."

Alana rolled her eyes. "He may be mistrusting, but I doubt he'd truly believe that; Thorin knows that I hate orcs as much as he." She sighed heavily. "Look, I don't think Thorin will ever really trust me, Gandalf, as much as you may wish otherwise. I was gone because I was grieving the loss of a long-time friend."

Gandalf huffed. "Yes, well, unfortunately he does not believe that, and will not be persuaded otherwise. He would claim that Eluviel was just an animal."

"Of course he would!" Alana snapped. "Thorin is a dwarf. The lives of animals are not important to them. I have been raised among men and elves, both of whom care greatly for their animals. I wouldn't expect him to understand."

"Either way, you must not give him any more reasons to doubt you," Gandalf said sternly, and suddenly Alana felt like a child.

She sighed. "I know. But he has not been making it easy."

Gandalf nodded. "And it is likely he never will. Which is why you must be nothing but yourself. If you doubt him, tell him. He may not like it at the time, but it is your way of showing you trust him and are not afraid of speaking your mind."

"I am not afraid of that," Alana muttered bitterly. "But whatever I say, if it disagrees with his words, he will disregard it completely."

"Then make him learn to take your advice," Gandalf said, as if it were a simple task.

Alana sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know I will do my best, Mithrandir."

Gandalf nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, I believe there is someone who wants to see you."

"Estel, yes, I know," Alana responded quickly as she followed Gandalf out of the room.

"Not him," Gandalf said with a knowing look. Alana frowned.

They were silent until they came across a large courtyard, which overlooked the whole valley. Before them, dressed in white, was the Lady Galadriel.

Alana bowed her head. "Lady Galadriel, it has been a long time."

"A long time indeed," the _elleth_ replied with a smile. "You have been busy."

Alana nodded. "I am rarely not."

Galadriel stepped forward and took Alana's right hand in her grasp, revealing the ring she wore. "You have drawn one of the mearas to you," she said.

"Yes, I have named him Firebrand."

Galadriel's smile was small, but genuine. "It is a rare occurrence for a mearas to seek out a rider, though I imagine this ring has something to do with him finding you. Your naming of him has sealed your fates; they are entwined now. Wherever you go, he will follow, unless you send him elsewhere."

"Where I go next is not fit for any horse or pony," Alana noted. "Not once we reach the mountains."

"Yet he will follow you until then. You cannot abandon him."

Alana shook her head. "You know I won't; we have formed a kind of friendship over the last two days. But I can't help but fear what would happen if he were to fall. I'm sure you know of what happened when Eluviel passed."

"Your bond with those you love is strong," Galadriel mused airily. "It can be both a strength and a weakness, so be wary of this."

Alana frowned, guessing there was a hidden meaning behind these words but unable to work out what it was. She also sensed that she was dismissed, so, after bowing again, Alana turned to find Aragorn.

She entered his room after knocking, only for it to receive no answer. The room was empty. Just as she turned to wander, she heard a dull thud. She moved towards Aragorn's balcony, which happened to have a rather spectacular view of the training area. Aragorn was stood there, busy practicing with his new bow. His arrows thudded rhythmically against the target every few seconds, and pride blossomed in her chest when she saw that pretty much every one of them landed in or very close to the centre circle.

She immediately went down to meet him. Aragorn seemed to hear her, for he turned to face her almost as soon as she stepped into the stoned area. His face lit up. "You're back!"

"I was told you wanted to see me."

Aragorn smirked. "I always do; you're my sister."

Alana's response was to roll her eyes. Perching herself on the stone railing, she looked at her little brother. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

Aragorn lifted his bow. "Why did you get me it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I understand why Lord Elrond didn't want me to learn. So why did you buy it?"

Alana shook her head. "Lord Elrond didn't let you learn because I asked him not to. It'd been my plan for two years to buy you your first bow for your tenth birthday. Elrond was just fulfilling my wishes."

Aragorn frowned. "You planned that far ahead?"

Nodding, Alana knelt in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "You must understand: you and mother are the two most important people in my life. There isn't a second in every day when I'm not thinking about one or both of you in some part of my mind, however big or small. It brings me joy to see you so happy. It is all that keeps me going. And seeing you with a weapon in your hand is comforting, because I know that, soon, I won't be alone, and that my job will be lessened because you can protect yourself."

Aragorn pursed his lips. "Is it a burden to have to look after us?" he asked timidly.

Alana shook her head. "No, because it gives me a purpose. Even if I have nothing else to do, I know I'll always have you two as my first priority. It's a task I don't even need to fulfil, but one I have assigned to myself because I can't stand the thought of losing you. I made a promise to protect you, and I plan to keep it."

* * *

 

Alana stared out at Rivendell in silence. She was going to miss it when she left, that much was true. She may have grown restless at the mere thought of staying in one place, but if ever there was a place she could call home, it would be here. Aragorn was just behind her, having an animated conversation with the Durin brothers. Alana had never had much of a part in it, so allowed her attention to drift.

She was brought back to reality when someone poked her arm. Alana looked down, and saw the amused expressions of Kili and Fili, and Aragorn's one of impatience. 

"Yes, brother?" she asked sweetly.

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "Kili asked you a question."

Alana turned her attention to the younger dwarf. "And what would that be?"

"I asked what you'll do once what we're doing is done," he replied.

Alana shrugged. "No doubt exactly the same thing I was doing before. Unless I'm killed, of course."

Aragorn's look of horror made her instantly want to take back her words. "Could you be killed?" he asked, as if the idea had only just struck him.

Alana looked out over the valley again. "There's always a chance I could be killed, Estel. The trick is staying optimistic." She winked at him. "And it'll take a lot to kill me."

Aragorn grinned, and Alana was glad she had managed to lighten the mood. "That's right! I bet not even a dragon could kill you!"

Alana and the brothers laughed at the irony in his words. "Perhaps you're right." Her eyes drifted upwards, where the moon was rising in the sky. "Come on, Estel, you need to rest."

He pouted. "But I'm not tired," he whined.

"Perhaps, but mother would wring my neck if she found out I was keeping you up too late," Alana reminded him. "Come on now, stop being childish."

Aragorn frowned. "I'm not," he huffed, before turning and scampering off.

Alana watched him until he was completely shielded from her view, a sad smile on her face. "Do you think I'll live through this quest to see him again?" she asked quietly.

Fili and Kili exchanged a shocked look. "Are you doubting yourself, Alana?" Fili asked.

Alana looked at them. "I'm always doubting myself when he and mother are concerned. Because then it's not just me I have to look out for."

Kili smiled gently, while Fili just looked contemplative. "I'm sure you will," the brunette said. "After all, you've got us to look after you."

Alana sneered in disgust. "I don't need looking after, Kili."

"I know," Kili laughed, winking.

Alana realised that he'd just made her reassure herself of her skills, made her refute her own words, and grinned at him. "You're a peculiar dwarf, Master Kili."

"That's a good thing, right?"

Alana nodded. "A very good thing, my friend."

She then winked at them both, before walking away to her room. She slept soundly that night.


	9. A Challenge of Arms

When morning greeted her, Alana was already awake, though far from the point where she would be wandering around. She was sat cross-legged on her bed, her weapons all laid out in front of her, rhythmically running a whetstone along the lengths of her blades. Four sharpened knives sat to her left, while two more knives, three daggers (one of which was in her hand), and her sword, Faradae, had yet to be sharpened. These sat on her right.

A knock sounded on the door, and she hummed for the person to enter. When she looked up, she had to work quite hard to hide her surprise.

"Good morning," she greeted with a hint of trepidation. "How can I help you, Master Oakenshield?"

For a moment, he was silent, watching the rhythmic movement of stone on metal, before asking gruffly and bluntly, "Where did you go?"

Alana didn't have to ask to know what he was talking about; this was a conversation she'd been waiting to have since she'd returned to Rivendell. "Nowhere specific," she replied honestly. "I mostly kept to the plains around the valley, and only went as far as Weathertop."

"Why did you leave in the first place?"

"Because I lost a friend."

"The horse?"

Alana sighed patiently. "I know you dwarves have little care for animals – it's not in your nature. You are very proud of your crafts, and the halls that you build. I understand that. But please consider the fact I have grown up around elves, who have a great love of nature. Even the men I have grown alongside have held great pride in their beasts. And Eluviel has... _had_ been at my side for the better part of seven years."

Thorin eyed her for a long while, and Alana forced herself not to look away. At long last, he let out a breath she didn't know he'd been holding, and nodded his head. "Forgive me," he murmured, and Alana's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I have to admit I sometimes forget you aren't one of us."

Alana chuckled dryly. "I'm not sure how to take that. I mean, I'm honoured that you sometimes see me as one of you, but..." she shook her head, grinning. "Thorin, I'm over a foot taller than the tallest dwarf in your company, which is you. _That's_ difficult to forget, surely."

"Sometimes you just act too much like dwarves do," Thorin muttered with a small shrug. It was as he did that, an action so casual and _informal_ that Alana realised he didn't look like a King, or a leader of a race. He just looked normal. As if he were an average civilian. And Alana felt the respect growing in her gut when she realised he was pushing aside his pride for _her_ sake. To give her the benefit of the doubt.

Alana, deciding he had 'suffered' enough, held up her freshly sharpened dagger. "Once I've finished sharpening these, how about we have a tournament?"

"A tournament?" His interest had clearly been caught, and he arched an eyebrow in her direction.

"Sure. We can't afford for our skills to get rusty, and I promised Gandalf I'd teach Bilbo how to fight, anyway."

"And how would you go about this tournament of yours?" Alana could tell by the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth that Thorin approved of the idea.

Alana shrugged. "We could pair everybody up, and then the winner of each round can then go against another winner of that round, until you're left with..." She mentally counted in her head. "Well, provided everyone joins in, it could get a bit complicated due to odd numbers, but we'd most likely end up with a final three."

Thorin was thoughtful for a while, before a smile – a proper, full smile – spread across his face. Alana was stunned into complete motionlessness at the sight. She knew he could smile (however few and far between they were) but she never thought he'd smile so widely at _her._ And, what's more, the smile made him look disgustingly beautiful, taking some of the many years of hardship from his face. "That's a very good idea," he said. "I shall go and inform the others; could you prepare the training grounds for us once you are done here?"

It took several seconds for her to reply, still somewhat dumbfounded. "... Sure."

* * *

 

Things were made easier by the fact that Bilbo, Balin and Ori decided to opt out of the tournament, which left them with twelve participants. That would make the later rounds far simpler, as they would split into six and three nice and easily. The last round would just have to be a 'last man standing' round.

Aragorn had settled with Gilraen to watch, having already eagerly introduced her to the dwarves, who were actually pleasantly polite to her (but, Alana supposed, her mother wasn't an elf, so that immediately put her in their good books). Gilraen still wasn't especially comfortable with the idea that Alana was travelling so far with the dwarves, though she had given her daughter the benefit of the doubt upon hearing how fondly she and Aragorn spoke of them. Much like her father, Alana possessed an almost stubborn loyalty to those she called friend, and Gilraen knew with certainty that she would never be able to convince Alana to abandon her new company. It was for that reason, and that reason alone, that she did not try.

The rules of the tournament were simple: you could use whatever weapon you wished, but you could not aim to cause any deliberate harm to your opponent, and must not cause any distractions for other on-going duels. Anyone going outside the designated sparring areas was an immediate loser.

After that was established, Balin, being an unbiased spectator, split them into pairs. Thorin was paired with Bofur, Dwalin with Dori, Oin with Gloin, Nori with Alana, Fili with Bifur, and Kili with Bombur. Each pair had a small, three by three metre sparring area.

Alana grinned at Nori when they stepped into their area, readjusting her grip on the hilt of her sword. "Don't hold back, because I won't," she taunted with a grin.

"I wouldn't dare," the thief replied with a grin, grasping his own weapon, and Alana would admit she had no idea what it was. Some kind of mix between a mace and a warhammer, she supposed.

Nori swung first, and Alana leapt out of the way, before stepping forward and swiping at him. Nori blocked with his weapon, but Alana grinned wickedly at him, and he frowned. This momentary lapse in complete concentration allowed her to kick his feet out from underneath him. He fell with a curse, his weapon falling out of reach, and Alana placed a boot on his chest, pinning him down, sword end two inches from his throat.

Alana smirked. "I think that means I win."

With a huff, Nori nodded, and Alana withdrew her blade. She didn't sheathe it, but offered Nori a hand up anyway. He accepted, before picking up and shouldering his weapon. Upon looking around, Alana noticed with some surprise that they were not the first to be finished – Thorin, Bofur, Dwalin and Dori had also finished, and were watching the others. For a moment, Alana caught Thorin's eyes on her, before they moved back to Oin's battle with Gloin, which appeared quite heated. Alana was impressed at how well the two fought, especially Oin, who was supposed to be the healer of the group. He had multiple skills, it seemed.

After another five minutes, all rounds were over. Fili had beaten Bifur (theirs had been the longest match, and it was very close until the last moment, when Fili managed to gain the upper hand), Kili had beaten Bombur and Gloin had beaten Oin. In the corner of her eye, Alana saw Ori pass his leather notebook to Balin, who read over the names quickly. "Thorin, Dwalin, Alana, Gloin, Kili and Fili are to move onto the next round. The rest, please step away from the sparring ground."

Alana couldn't help but smirk at how official he sounded – he was taking his job far more seriously than she thought he would, given the light-hearted nature of this particular competition. The next partnerships were as follows: Alana with Kili, Dwalin with Fili, Thorin with Gloin.

Alana smirked at the brunette Durin. "Now, this will be a fun fight for Estel to watch."

Kili frowned in confusion, glancing at the young boy who was practically bouncing in anticipation, Gilraen smiling at him with amusement. "Why's that?"

"Oh, you've become something of a role model to him in the past few days," Alana replied with a shrug. "And I'm his sister."

Kili grinned. "Well, I'd best not disappoint, then."

Alana snorted. "Don't get your hopes up, kid."

"I'm older than you!" Kili pulled an affronted face.

Alana rolled her eyes. "Whatever." And with that, she struck. Her body shot forward like an arrow, and Kili had barely enough time to raise his sword in defence. "Rule number one," Alana drawled with a smirk, leaning her head down so it was barely half a foot from his. " _Never_ let your opponent distract you."

With that, she whirled around, striking low at his left leg. Kili blocked far better this time, but she was already swinging again. Left shoulder, right side, above his head, left leg. Her attacks kept coming in a fast stream, until Kili managed to use his superior strength to push her away. She stumbled only slightly, but it was enough for him to switch their positions. Suddenly Alana was blocking Kili's attacks, and he was slowly driving her towards the edge of their boundary. Noticing that she would have to choose another tactic, Alana ducked underneath a high swing and rolled along the ground, throwing her elbow into the back of his knee. Kili grunted as he was knocked to the ground, but before he could get up again, Alana was stood behind him, with one hand on his shoulder keeping him still, and the other pressing the blade of her sword to his throat.

"Dead."

"You're very quick," Kili noted, obviously impressed, and she moved her blade. He got quickly to his feet, sheathing his sword by his side. Both of them were covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

"And you're far stronger than me," she returned with a grin. She then grabbed hold of his head, one arm around his neck, and started ruffling his hair, laughing. Kili wrestled himself out of her grip, hair somewhat messed up now, but grinning all the same. "It was a good match," she said sincerely.

"It was," he agreed. "Though you might have upset a few of the others with that last stunt."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If taken the wrong way, touching a dwarf's hair without permission can be a cause for great insult."

Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh, Eru, I'm so sorry! I didn't–!"

"It's fine," he cut in, waving her off. "You didn't know, and I'm not offended. But perhaps you ought to be a little more cautious in future, hmm?" Kili winked and grinned at her, letting her know he truly wasn't upset by her actions, before joining the others. As it turned out, theirs was the longest match, and so their entire interaction had indeed been seen by everyone. Their looks were perhaps a little twisted now, but no one said anything about it, for which Alana was grateful.

"I think the next round must be a free-for-all round," Balin announced. "Participants are Thorin, Dwalin and Alana."

While the rest of the group settled at the sidelines, Thorin, Alana and Dwalin moved into the largest sparring area, which would be needed due to their extra numbers. Alana examined her opponents closely as they all moved into battle-ready positions, forming a triangle with their bodies. She knew that the long-lasting friendship and camaraderie between Thorin and Dwalin would make her their first target. Which meant that she would have to choose one of them quickly, before they both tried to take her out. She ran her options over her mind for a few seconds, before deciding on Dwalin. He was more heavily built than Thorin, and so would be stronger, but also probably slower. That would make him the easier to disarm. But she had to do it quickly – she didn't want to waste too much energy on taking him out if she only had to fight Thorin afterwards.

Dwalin was the first to break their stalemate, lunging forward, his dual axes singing. As expected, he went for Alana, and she ducked away from his axes, only to have to roll away again when Thorin's own sword swung at her. The two friends battled for a while, before Thorin twisted away and attacked Alana again. She arched her back, narrowly avoiding the tip of his blade, before knocking it away with her own sword. Dwalin's axes came down just at that moment, and the heavy clash of three weapons filled the air. The three looked at each other, coldly, calculating, before a collective grin spread over each of their lips, and the battle began anew, with more vigour and power behind each thrust and swipe.

Duck, swipe, jump, dodge, swing, parry, attack. It became more about speed than anything else, and that was where Alana had the advantage. While Thorin and Dwalin distracted one another, she came up behind Dwalin and grabbed him by the arm, sword pressing against his back, between his shoulder blades.

"Dead."

There were hoots from the watching crowd, which had grown in size due to a number of curious elves coming to watch as well. Dwalin let out a breath, before nodding reluctantly and marching out of the arena. Thorin and Alana gave each other only enough time to get back into position before their fight began for the third time. By now, Alana's chest was heaving, and sweat coated her skin. Thorin was much the same. She knew that Thorin would be able to fight off the tiredness far longer than her however, so if she were to have any chance of defeating him, she'd have to do it quickly.

She swung her sword wide, and Thorin ducked the blow, sweeping his own sword at her feet. She jumped over it, before letting her sword clash with his again. Clash after clash echoed through Rivendell, and their duel stretched longer and longer, each finding an advantage, only to lose it a scant moment later. An uncoordinated knock from Alana sent them both sprawling to the ground, though both were quick to take advantage of this. They met in the middle, still on the ground, and Thorin used his superior strength and weight to push her underneath him. His sword was at her throat.

He smirked. "Very dead."

Not to be deterred, Alana mirrored his expression and twitched her hand. Thorin's eyes widened when he noticed her own blade was pressing against his side, point first. "I believe the same could be said for you."

For a moment, a look of outrage crossed his eyes, before grudging respect took its place. Thorin moved off her and got to his feet, offering her a hand up. After staring at it suspiciously for a few seconds – during which Thorin rolled his eyes in a very un-Kingly manner – she accepted, and he pulled her to her feet.

He watched her through narrowed eyes for a moment, before clapping her solidly on the shoulder and letting a hint of a smile grace his lips. "I'm glad you fight with us, Lady Ranger."

She grinned. "Thanks." With a nod, Thorin turned away, walking past his open-mouthed company without another word. Alana paused a few moments, before she threw back her head and let out a disbelieving laugh. She then promptly fell back onto the floor, arms spread wide, completely exhausted. Nothing could keep the grin off her face though.


	10. Whispers in the Mind

That night Thorin, with Balin, Gandalf and Bilbo at his side, requested her presence at some sort of reading. Alana, despite being in nothing more than a thin nightdress and fine, silk robe, nodded her head and walked with them. She was above caring at her lack of proper clothes.

It seemed, however, that Elrond was more than a little displeased at her choice of dress, if his pursed lips were any indication. That said, he said no words to scold her, nor did he request that he go back and fine more appropriate attire. Perhaps he understood that Alana had had no prior warning about this meeting, and anyway she was in the company of trusted friends who, on this single occasion, could overlook the impropriety.

At length, after casting his eyes over the group, Elrond turned to the wizard. "What is so important, then, Gandalf, that you would request a meeting so late at night?"

"We were wondering if, perhaps, you could decipher a map for us...?"

Thorin shot Gandalf a venomous look. "Our business is no concern of elves," he spat before Elrond could comment.

Gandalf almost rolled his eyes – Alana could see the desire there, though he fought it expertly. "For goodness sake, Thorin! Show him the map!"

"It is the legacy of my people; it is mine to protect, as are its secrets."

Thorin's scowl was enough to stop most arguments from leaving the lips of many. Unfortunately for the dwarf, Gandalf was not one to follow orders, spoken or not. "Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves! Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle Earth who can read that map! Show it to Lord Elrond!"

Thorin was thoughtful for a long moment, before his eyes suddenly shifted to Alana, and surprised though she was, she supposed she could understand why: she knew Elrond the best. She knew if he was trustworthy; if he could be allowed to know about the map, and possibly about their goal, too. She pondered for little more than a second, before she nodded slightly to the dwarf King. He let out a long sigh, but nonetheless reached into his coat and pulled out the map, ignoring Balin's attempts to stop him.

Elrond barely got one glance of the aged paper before his brows creased into a deep frown. "Erebor? What is your interest in this map?"

"It's mainly academic," Gandalf answered quickly, shooting Thorin a sharp look. "As you know artefacts like this sometimes contain hidden texts." He became concerned. "You still read ancient dwarfish, do you not?"

Elrond didn't answer, instead lifting the map to see it at another angle. For a moment, Alana could have sworn she'd seen a shimmer of silver on the surface.

" _Certh ithil,_ " he said.

"Moon runes?" Alana repeated with a frown, ignoring how everyone glanced at her. "I wasn't aware they were still recognised."

"You know about moon-letters?" Balin asked, overly cautious in her opinion.

Alana smiled in an attempt to ease his worries. "There are books on them in the library," she explained. "They are written using a substance adapted from mithril, called... ithildin, I think. They are very clever."

Bilbo looked up at Alana in interest. "What do they do?"

Elrond suddenly turned around, leading them elsewhere, while Alana continued to share her knowledge. "Moon runes are written in such a way that they can only be read when the light of the moon shines behind the writing. Some moon-letters can be read by any moonlight, but it is rumoured that the dwarves found a way to make the writing even more secret. More sophisticated moon-letters can only be read by the light of the same shape of moon, or at the same time of year, as when they were written."

Thorin turned to Elrond, still following behind him, though even through his thick coat Alana could see the tension in his shoulders. "Can you read them?" he asked hopefully.

Elrond glanced down at him. "We shall see. These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve over two hundred years ago. And like Alana said, they can be read only by a moon of the same shape and season of the day they were written." A rare smile crept onto his fate. "It would seem fate was with you when you arrived here. And, perhaps, you were always meant to come to Rivendell, for the same moon shines upon us tonight." Elrond carefully placed the map down on a crystalline pedestal, which glimmered in the light of the crescent moon. Slowly, dwarfish runes began to appear on the aged paper, runes which Lord Elrond quickly translated. "Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."

"Durin's Day?" Bilbo asked in confusion.

"It is the start of the dwarves' new year," Gandalf explained, "when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together."

"This is ill news," Thorin said lowly. "Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us."

"We still have time," Alana reassured him softly, but she could tell it didn't help.

"Time?" Bilbo echoed. "To do what?"

"To find the entrance," Balin replied. "We have to be standing at exactly the right place at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened."

"So, this is your purpose," Elrond mused, and Alana winced. Thorin was immediately defensive and tense (even more so, which Alana hadn't believed to be physically possible). "You plan to enter the mountain."

"What of it?" Thorin growled.

"There are some who would not deem it wise."

"Who do you mean?" questioned Gandalf, frowning.

Lord Elrond sent him a pointed glance. "You are not the only one to keep watch over Middle Earth." Realisation dawned on Gandalf, and, apparently satisfied, Elrond turned away, promptly followed by the wizard. They murmured to one another in elvish, but they were too quiet for Alana to be able to hear and understand them.

* * *

 After spending a whole day with her energetic little brother – along with two other pairs of almost equally energetic brothers (Kili, Fili, Elladan and Elrohir) – Alana was feeling exhausted. But she didn't want to rest yet, as it was still relatively early in the evening. She considered joining the loudly dining dwarves, but decided against the idea, already feeling the hints of a headache forming.

As she wandered through the corridors of Rivendell, she came across a peculiar sight. Thorin and Bilbo were stood together, eavesdropping on a conversation between Gandalf and Lord Elrond. Curiosity overwhelming her, she paused to listen in as well.

"–the throne is Thorin's birthright!" Gandalf exclaimed. "What is it you fear?"

"Have you forgotten?" Elrond asked, his voice deceptively calm. "A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind. His father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?" There was a brief pause, before Elrond spoke once more, his voice sterner this time. "Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone. It is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Middle Earth."

The open expression of raw pain, torment, anger, and fear on Thorin's face was enough to pull at Alana's heartstrings. Thorin always seemed so strong and fearless, but she realised now that falling to the sickness of his forefathers was perhaps his deepest, most crippling fear. He didn't want to fail his people like that. In just one second, and with just one look at that broken face, Alana knew exactly how he felt. She approached silently, and while he clearly knew she was there, he did nothing to acknowledge her. After shifting awkwardly on his feet, Bilbo quietly crept away, obviously feeling he was intruding on something.

" _Lle naa belegohtar, (You are a mighty warrior,)_ " Alana murmured softly. "You do not doubt the strength of your arm, and your will is far stronger. You should not fear what you know you can overcome."

"A warrior, perhaps. But a physical battle is far easier than a mental one."

Alana drew back in surprise. " _Pedil edhellen? (Do you speak elvish?)_ "

Thorin smirked. "It is not common knowledge," he answered, "but yes, a little. It is just enough to get me by."

"I thought you hated elves."

Thorin rolled his eyes. "It was more at the will of my father than anything. He was even less fond of them than I was back then, and he always said that to know their language is an advantage for me." He sighed. "How can I fight something that dwells in my blood?"

"You can fight instincts, can you not? In what way would this be any different?"

Thorin eyed her for a moment, clearly weighing something up in his mind. "You must promise me that you will not repeat what I am about to tell you."

Alana was surprised, but nodded her head. "You know my family's secret; the least I can do is return the favour."

"The gold sickness is like a voice in the back of your mind. It seeks to persuade you of the importance of treasure. That's all it is – a voice in your head that is crying out for attention. But it's persistent, and enough to drive anyone to madness."

Realisation dawned on the woman. "You've already felt the sickness's touch."

Sighing heavily, Thorin nodded. "I'm far from proud of it. In fact, I fear that the only thing that kept me from falling last time was watching my grandfather fail. Seeing it happen before your eyes helps you to fight it even harder."

Alana placed a firm hand on Thorin's shoulder and squeezed. "Do not hide your fears from your men," she urged gently. "They can help you, if you let them. And do not say it is weakness to ask for help," she interrupted him before he had the chance to speak again. "The strongest and most respected people are the ones who know when it is right to ask for aid; you cannot fight off everything on your own. My father used to tell me that people have no hope without their leaders, and leaders have no strength without their people. If you cannot trust in those you will one day reign over, how can they learn to trust you in return?" She smiled, letting her hand drift from its place on his shoulder. "You don't have to say anything now. Just... think on it, okay?"

Slowly, Thorin nodded. He was about to turn away, when a thought apparently struck him. "We are to leave before dawn tomorrow," he told her.

Alana felt her heart grow heavy with the knowledge she would have to leave her brother after so little time in his company, but she nodded nonetheless. " _Quel esta, hîr vuin. (Rest well, my lord.)_ "

" _Tenna' tul're, hiril vuin, (Until tomorrow, my lady,)_ " he replied slowly, his tongue clearly unused to making such shapes. Alana smiled warmly at him for using the language of those he claimed to despise, feeling her heart physically ache with pride, before turning and giving the dwarf King some privacy.

* * *

Alana was up and ready to leave just as the sun peeked up over valley. After scribbling a quick goodbye note to Aragorn (which she left by his bed after sneaking into his room), Alana left to find the large balcony on which the dwarves had been sleeping the last fortnight. When she arrived they were already awake, though judging by their grumblings and tired faces, they hadn't been for long.

Thorin greeted Alana with nothing more than a small nod of acknowledgement, which she returned. Alana was back in her Ranger garb, and had added more long-lasting food to her pack, as well as having sharpened her weapons for the remainder of the journey. She'd also packed some medicinal herbs, as she had no doubt they'd need them eventually. All in all, she was more than ready to go. 

* * *

The company was on the move again not long after, when Bilbo came back to announce the White Council had begun (which acted as cover for their escape). Alana led them away towards a more secret exit, which split into many paths leading in every direction from north to south, before opening out onto the grassy plains to the east of Rivendell.

Pausing, Alana sent Imladris one last quick look. The feeling that she would not be back here for a very long time struck her quite suddenly, and it was with a heavy heart that she finally turned away.

"Be on your guard; we are about to step over the edge of the wild. Alana, you know these paths, lead on," Thorin commanded gruffly.

Alana nodded. "Let's go." She began walking through the pathway, vaguely hearing Thorin bark something to Bilbo, but didn't pay him any attention, nor did she react to his order in any way beyond rolling her eyes. Last night seemed to have done nothing to change his usual brusqueness, and she had to admit she missed the more pleasant side of him, the one that didn't shut him away from the rest of the world. In a way, though, Alana thought she knew why he did it; as a leader, he had to ensure people didn't begin to doubt him or think him soft. Being a woman in a man's world, she knew that fight all too well, but it pained her to realise that he thought it necessary even among friends.

Kili managed to wind a path up to her, and then he walked alongside the Ranger. The tunnel was no more than a metre and a half wide, but at least it was wider than the Hidden Pass. "How far does this go?" Kili asked, peering further ahead into the cave, which was slowly losing light.

Alana ducked a little as she passed a jutting rock. "A mile, maybe two," she answered.

"It's getting quite dark," Kili commented, frowning.

Alana glanced down at him. "I can see well enough, and there will be small holes in the ceiling every now and then that let in light once we choose our path. It should be fine, as long as no one falls behind. There are many directions this tunnel could lead you, if you were to go the wrong way."

Kili shuddered. "I hope you know where you're going," he mumbled.

Alana laughed. "Master Dwarf, I have been in these tunnels many times. I assure you, I know the way." She glanced back to see Thorin a few places behind. She stopped when they reached a round 'room' with five different pathways leading away. "Which way do you intend to go to cross over the Misty Mountains?" Alana asked their leader.

"The High Pass," he replied.

Alana frowned. "I wouldn't recommend it; it passes close to a large dwelling of goblins."

Thorin just stared at her. "We take the High Pass," he repeated lowly.

Alana held up her hands in exasperation and surrender, before taking the second pathway on their left, which headed north-east. As promised, small windows of light allowed their progress to remain in lit, if not gloomy, conditions. 

After about half an hour, the tunnels began sloping upwards, and then ended altogether. They climbed out one by one, and Alana looked around her, smiling as the early-morning sun hit her face. She turned to Thorin. "The High Pass is about a five day walk directly to the north and east of here," she told him.

Thorin nodded, before turning in said direction and walking ahead. Alana waited for all the dwarves and Bilbo to pass her, before tagging on the end.

* * *

After twenty or so minutes, Alana heard a distant noise. She shouted "Stop!" to the company and drew her sword. She watched the horizon with sharp eyes, until she saw a flicker of brown and black closer to them than she first thought. She let out a breathy laugh and sheathed her sword again. A minute later, Firebrand cantered up to her. Alana shook her head and stroked his coat.

"Is that what I think it is, lassie?" Balin asked, awe thick in his voice.

Alana looked back. "That would depend on what you think it is. But I expect so, yes."

"What's so special about this beast?" Dwalin asked, and Firebrand let out an angry snort. Alana quickly shushed and soothed him by stroking his nose affectionately.

"That is no mere beast," Balin huffed. "That is one of the mearas, the finest steeds you could come across."

"Mearas?" Fili frowned.

Alana nodded. "The mearas are an ancient race of horses, with speed, stamina, strength, and intelligence unmatched by regular horses. They also live long lives for horses – as long as any man might live." She turned to Firebrand and smile at him. "Firebrand came to me when we first arrived in Rivendell, drawn to me due to the ring I found in the troll hoard, and he has been my friend ever since." She turned around and looked pointedly at the dwarves. "He was the one who carried me for the days I was away from the valley."

"He came to you?" Balin asked. Alana nodded again. "Well I never..."

"Is that rare?" Kili asked.

Balin laughed dryly. "It's almost unheard of. Normally the rider has to approach the horse, and even then, most of the time the beast will not allow the rider to mount." He looked at Alana. "You're really something else."

Alana huffed. "Balin, my friend, you don't even know the half of it."

"What do you mean?"

Alana saw the look Thorin was giving her, and suddenly Gandalf's warning echoed in her head. If she didn't share her secret now, Thorin might doubt her. Then again, these were the lives of her family she was pinning to a group of thirteen dwarves who she'd only known for three months. She sighed. "Come on, I want to get as far as possible before night." She started forwards, Firebrand walking calmly beside her, and the dwarves followed her. Every one of them – except Thorin – was watching her in confusion. The leader had instead narrowed his eyes at her.

Presently, he approached her. "Why didn't you tell them? Do you not trust them?"

Alana looked at him. "I do, I trust them with my life."

"Then why hold this back?"

"I've only known them for three months, and I don't know if they can keep a secret as big as this from everyone else. Besides, it's not just _my_ life this secret affects."

Thorin was quiet for a moment, before he slowed down and started walking beside Dwalin.

Bilbo quickly filled the space at Alana's side. "Can I ask you something?" he asked quietly. So quietly, in fact, that only Alana would be able to hear him.

Alana smiled. "Of course."

"That story you told me in Rivendell; how does it end?"

Alana frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Those heirs you spoke of. Are they ever going to claim the throne?"

"That remains to be seen. Either way, it would require that blade to be reformed and returned to its rightful owner. The Stewards of Gondor would never allow someone to take the throne by word of mouth alone – they would need proof."

For a moment, both were silent, each lost in thought. Then, Bilbo asked another question, again using a tiny voice. "It's your brother, isn't it?" Alana looked sharply down at him. "Your brother is the heir."

Alana was shocked into silence for a moment. Then, a loud sigh escaped her lips. "Yes," she admitted. "But I beg you not to share what you know. It is a secret that must remain within those closest to our family. Can you do that for me, Bilbo?"

Bilbo seemed taken aback, but nonetheless nodded. "I will not tell a soul. At least, not until I am told I can."

Alana smiled and gently squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you, my friend," she murmured softly.


	11. Stone Giants

Alana ate her dinner slowly that night, and in silence. Everyone else seemed to be in deep or casual conversation, but Alana didn't mind that she was on her own.

"May I join you?" Alana nodded her head without thinking, tearing apart her small piece of bread and then popping one half of it in her mouth. The dwarf – Thorin, it turned out to be, much to her shock – sat down and rested his elbows on his knees, which were half pulled up to his chest. It was a position that seemed just too casual to fit with Thorin's usual uptight demeanour. But, Alana mused to herself, Thorin was still a person. She was just glad he seemed comfortable enough around her to allow himself to relax. He glanced at her, his grey eyes scanning over her blank face. "What are you thinking about?" he asked quietly.

Alana blinked and looked at him. "Many things," she admitted. "I'm thinking about the road ahead, the road behind, past, future, present. Mostly though, my thoughts linger on my brother."

Thorin, after a long moment, smiled softly. "You really are the most protective sibling I have ever seen in my life."

Alana snorted. "I've got nothing on Kili and Fili. Inseparable, they are. I may care greatly for my brother, but not enough to be constantly with him the same way they are. Staying in one place would drive me crazy after a while."

Thorin chuckled deep in his throat. "The age gap between my nephews is much smaller than between you and Aragorn. Besides, they are both male. When you're a girl and he's a boy, complications arise. Trust me; I would know."

"And yet still I'm here and he's back in Rivendell," she said. "My point is, if I was as protective of him as you make me sound, I wouldn't leave his side, even if it drove me mad."

Thorin pursed his lips. "Still..."

Alana smiled. "Try all you want, Thorin Oakenshield, you can't win an argument against me about my family."

The two sat in a semi-awkward silence for a while, before Alana sighed and looked up at the Misty Mountains to the east. She stood up as she saw something stir in the corner of her eye. "I'm going scouting." Without waiting for an answer, Alana swung on her weapons and then jumped on Firebrand's back. She spurred her heels into his side and the stallion took off like the wind. She led him south, where she thought she'd seen the stir. Letting her sharp eyes scan the surroundings, Alana pulled Firebrand to a halt. She could now feel eyes on her, and then she caught sight of something moving in the distance. She cursed, recognising immediately what it was. She turned Firebrand swiftly around and urged him back into a gallop.

She came across the camp very quickly.

All the company were alert immediately. Thorin barked at her, "What is it?"

Alana glanced over her shoulder again. "Orcs. They're still hunting us. Put out the fire, now!" She slid off Firebrand's bare back as Gloin and Bombur quickly put out their campfire. She approached Thorin. "We have to keep moving. Once we reach the mountains we should be safe. They will not follow us in."

"And how do you know this?"

"Because the orcs are not as reckless as we are," she bit back. "And I've had orcs following me before. They _never_ go into those mountains via the High Pass. They take another route across them, one unknown to me."

Thorin stared at her for a moment, before turning to face the others. "Gather your things. We leave as soon as we are ready." He turned back to Alana. "For your sake, I hope you're right."

Alana rolled her eyes and began helping the others pack away their stuff. They were then quickly on the move. Bilbo settled himself on Alana's empty side, and the two of them exchanged a concerned glance.

* * *

 

Several days of nearly constant walking later they were in the heart of the Misty Mountains, and the heavens had opened up above them. It was a storm so fierce that the ground seemed to shake with every rumble of thunder that sounded. The company edged their way along the slick rock, their progress slow due to their battle against the wind.

"Hold on!" Thorin shouted to everyone.

The wet and cold was putting Alana in an extraordinarily bad mood, not to mention she'd had to say goodbye to Firebrand at the base of the mountains, and it was only with great restraint that she held back a scathing remark at Thorin's stating of the obvious. As Bilbo walked, two places ahead of her, the stone beneath his feet collapsed, but luckily Dwalin caught him before he could fall.

"We must find shelter!" Thorin called out.

"Watch out!" Dwalin roared. A large boulder smashed into the rock above them, raining down sharp shards. Alana cursed and pushed herself as close to the wall as she could, though she could feel the odd stone hit her body.

"This is no thunder storm!" Balin shouted over the vicious howl of the wind. "It's a thunder battle! Look!"

The stone across the valley from them was _moving_. And it was _huge_. Almost as tall as the mountain itself.

"Well, bless me; the legends are true!" Bofur exclaimed, stepping closer to the edge of the ledge, as if in a daze. "Giants! Stone giants!"

"Save it for later!" Alana roared.

Thorin pulled Bofur away from the edge of the rock, yelling "Take cover, you fool!" as he did.

The first giant threw a large rock at the second, causing the company to yell out as their perch wobbled. Kili's eyes were filled with fear. "What's happening?" Alana squeezed his shoulder in a vain attempt to reassure him. Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to split, between Fili and Kili.

"Kili!" Fili called, panicked. "Kili, grab my hand! Ki–!"

But they were too far apart. They were now on separate legs of a third stone giant.

It too joined the violent fight, throwing its arms around aimlessly. It was soon knocked down, its leg crashing into a wall of the mountain. Alana and her group of dwarves managed to jump across onto a ledge, but the others were still in danger. Alana's eyes widened in fear as they suddenly hurtled towards a stone wall. She grabbed hold of the hand of the dwarf in front of her instinctively – which, of course, just _had_ to be Thorin – as they began to fall. The leg hit the mountain, and then moved back, revealing itself to be empty.

"No!" Thorin cried out, now grasping Alana's hand back just as tightly. "Fili!"

Instantly they raced forward, rounding the bend to find the other half of the company all safe and alive. Alana sagged against the wall while the dwarves happily reunited with one another, releasing a relieved laugh. She then promptly froze when she realised Thorin still had hold of her hand, and he seemed to notice the same thing at the same time. Their eyes met, and for some inexplicable reason, she found herself unable to move. His eyes seemed to bore into hers, searching for something, though she couldn't say what.

A shout quickly ripped them apart. "Where's Bilbo?!"

"There!" Bofur shouted, pointing at the lip of the ledge.

Alana darted forwards, crashing down on the rock and holding out a hand to reach the hobbit. She managed to catch his wrist just as he lost his grip on the rock. Alana grunted and pulled with all her might, but was unable to pull him up. He was heavier than he looked, not to mention his clothes were full of water and his pack alone weighed almost as much as he did.

She was positively shocked to see Thorin swing himself down as well, pushing Bilbo up. She tried to ignore the way her heart leapt into her throat when Thorin almost slipped and fell, though Dwalin caught him quickly. Alana pulled Bilbo – who was trembling violently – into her arms, stroking his hair in an attempt to calm him.

Watching as Dwalin then pulled Thorin up, she smiled and released Bilbo. He gave her a tiny, thankful smile. Dwalin huffed. "I thought we'd lost our burglar," he said.

Thorin scowled. "He's been lost ever since he left his home. He never should have come. He has no place among us." He then turned away. "Dwalin!" Anger boiled in Alana's blood at Thorin's harsh words, and she promised she'd give him a few of her own when they found a decent place to rest for the night.

* * *

 

Alana frowned when Thorin and Dwalin entered a cave they'd found. She followed them inside, though she felt hesitant; something about the cave didn't sit right with her.

"Looks safe enough," Dwalin commented.

"Search to the back," Thorin ordered. "Caves in the mountains are seldom unoccupied."

It didn't take Dwalin to return. "There's nothing here," he reported.

"Yet," Alana mumbled, though no one heard her. She could hear something faint, and quickly shushed everyone. She walked over to a nearby wall and put her ear to it. The noise became clearer, and though Alana had no idea what it was, it made her blood run cold. "We should move on," she said. "There's something moving on the other side of this cave." She turned to Thorin, who ignored her.

"Get some sleep. We begin at first light."

"Thorin!" Alana hissed, stepping up to him, towering over him with her height. "Did you not hear what I said? Goblins live in these mountains, and for all we know their numbers could be well into the thousands! If we are sitting on their doorstep, the chances of us lasting the night without being detected are almost zero. We _must_ move on."

Thorin glared. "You are not in charge here."

"I might as well be if you're just going to make foolish decisions," she snapped. "You're putting the whole company in danger by being here."

"Do you see any more caves nearby?" Thorin barked. By now, their argument had drawn the attention of all the other dwarves. "We have nowhere else to go. It is dangerous here, yes, but the risk is far greater if we continue on." His eyes flickered towards Bilbo, who paled slightly under the weight of his stare. "The next time someone gets thrown off the path, they might not be so lucky as Master Baggins."

Alana threw up her hands in exasperation. "Fine, if you want to condemn the company, so be it. I'm going to find another cave." She stormed to the entrance – making sure to roughly push past him – and lifted her hood before stepping into the pouring rain, grumbling about Thorin's stubbornness and stupidity as she did.

* * *

 

Alana had little luck finding another cave. The only one she came across was barely big enough for her alone, so would be no use to the rest of the company. With a dejected huff, she turned back. The cave was easy to find – she simply had to follow the snores, which somehow were louder than the storm around her (though the storm had thankfully calmed in the last hour). A fond smile began to creep over her face. _Those dwarves_...

As she stepped in, she was greeted by Bofur, who offered her a grin. She didn't return it, because her eyes were drawn to Bilbo, who appeared to be packing. "And just what do you think you're doing?" she asked as he approached.

Bilbo sighed. "Leaving. Going back to Rivendell."

Bofur was on his feet in an instant. "No, no, no, you can't turn back now," he cried. "You're part of the company. You're one of us."

"I'm not though, am I?" Bilbo said. "Thorin said I never should have come here, and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins. I don't know what I was thinking. I should never have run out of my door."

"Bilbo..." Alana whispered, brows creasing into a frown. In a way, she understood his desire to leave. Thorin had been less than accommodating towards him, ridiculing him far more than necessary, but Bilbo was braver than most. She couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that he was leaving them.

"You're homesick, I understand," Bofur said.

"No, you don't, you don't understand!" Bilbo hissed. "None of you do – you're dwarves! You're used to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere!"

Alana recoiled as if she had been physically struck. While Bilbo had only said about the dwarves, it was true for her as well – ever since her village burned, she'd never really found a place to call home. And hearing him say this pained her greatly. Bofur also looked upset and offended, losing his usual cheerful demeanour. Bilbo was utterly horrified with himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't..." He sighed.

"No, you're right," Bofur admitted in a small voice. He glanced back at the others. "We don't belong anywhere." He turned back and smiled, eyes equal parts warm and sad. "I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do." He placed his hand on Bilbo's shoulder, and the hobbit turned away. Bofur suddenly stiffened. "What's that?"

Bilbo and Alana looked at the small sword on the halfling's belt, which was glowing out of its sheath. He drew it, and the pale blue glow lit up the air around them. Alana cursed, drawing her own sword and finding it too was glowing. "Get up!" she yelled. "All of you, get up, now! We have to get out of here!"

The dwarves were instantly awake, but before any of them could do anything, the floor beneath their feet collapsed, and the company tumbled downwards.


	12. Goblin Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This has a torture scene in it. It's kind of 50/50 when it comes to how graphic it is, so just be wary

For a moment, Alana managed to stop herself from falling, clinging onto the wall of the cave, but eventually she lost her grip and slipped down after the others. They fell a long way, down what appeared to be some sort of shoot; one which was crudely carved from the stone, thus unfortunately making the ride incredibly uncomfortable. Alana followed the others down, and then landed on top of them, the breath being knocked out of her lungs in the process as she landed on the point of someone's elbow. 

As she regained her senses, Alana felt oily, brittle fingers wrap around her arms and yank her off the pile. Her eyes widened as she looked up and saw her attackers. _Goblins_.

She instantly began fighting them off, reaching for her sword, but a goblin grabbed her arm and bit down on her hand, making her release her sword hilt with a sharp cry of pain. More then began throwing themselves at her as she tried to fight them off. Eventually, Alana was overpowered. The goblins tugged her forward, and she and the rest of the company were dragged along a series of wooden pathways towards a large platform.

Screeches and cheers were heard as they were ushered onto the platform. The group was halted before the most vile creature Alana had ever seen. He looked like he was made entirely of fat, and was covered in greasy, foul skin... and warts. Alana felt sick to the stomach just looking at him.

He frowned at them. "Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?!" he demanded.

"Dwarves, your malevolence," one of the goblins replied.

"Dwarves?!"

The goblin turned back and sneered at Alana. "And a woman. We found them on the front porch."

The giant goblin recoiled, before scowling. "Well, don't just stand there; search them! Every crack! Every crevice!"

The goblins rushed towards the company and began searching them. Alana scowled deeply as a goblin groped and pulled at her skin in his eagerness, pulling out weapon after weapon from her clothes. Luckily, they didn't find the dagger hidden in her boot. A hand snuck around her chest, and she stepped away, smacking the hand. "Don't you dare," she hissed venomously, narrowing her eyes as the goblin let out a shriek of outrage.

She didn't hear the low, angered growl a certain dwarf let out when he noticed how the goblins were treating her. Neither did she notice the way he fought to get closer to her, though the many fingers of the surrounding goblins kept him back. 

The goblin King – as Alana guessed he was, judging by the 'crown' of bones on his head – stepped off his throne and eyed them all closely. "What are you doing in these parts?" he demanded. "Speak!" Silence met his question. "Well then," he said as he drew back, "if they won't talk, we'll make them squawk. Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker!" He pointed at Ori. "Start with the youngest."

Alana snarled and stepped in front of him. " _Or gwann a risto rhaw nín! (Over my dead and broken body!)_ "

The Great Goblin smirked. "Oh, a volunteer!"

Roars of protest sprung up from the dwarves as Alana was dragged forwards. The giant goblin ordered the rest of the company to be locked up, dismissing them with a wave of his fat hand – something which honestly surprised her. Alana would have thought he'd take great pleasure in making them watch, in seeing how they would react to her pain. Still, she knew that being left in the dark was a torture in its own right, though it couldn't be denied she was endlessly grateful the dwarves weren't watching – if she broke, it was not a sight she would want them to witness.

Alana was brought towards two vertical wooden poles, before her wrists were tied with ropes, one to each pole. She glared defiantly at the goblin King. "Do what you want to me," she hissed. "You'll get no answers."

The ugly brute laughed. "We'll see about that." He nodded to a nearby goblin, who grinned and ripped off Alana's corset-vest, dropping it off the edge of the platform. He then picked up a red-hot branding iron. Alana grit her teeth as her tunic was lifted a few inches and the metal was pressed against her skin. It was gone again almost immediately, so the pain was short and sharp. Alana said nothing – she didn't even make a sound. So, the goblin did it again, in the same place, and held the metal for a little longer this time. Alana hissed quietly, but still said nothing.

This continued for several minutes, the metal pressed against her skin for only a second or two each time. Alana dully noted that it didn't feel as hot as it did at first, though that didn't mean it didn't still hurt like hell. Her stubbornness held out, however, and the goblins received nothing more than a groan from the Ranger. Blood had begun to seep down her side from where her skin had broken and blistered, but no one paid it any attention.

The Great Goblin scowled. "You're tough, I see." His face then morphed back into a grin. "Let's see what more you can take, hmm?"

Something struck Alana's back. While it didn't break the fabric of her tunic, Alana could feel its burn as if it had struck bare skin. The sudden, unexpected strike made her bark out a curse, eyes screwed shut and teeth set in a snarl. Pain lanced over her back as another lashing hit her. Strike after strike was delivered, and while Alana made no sound, she soon began to weaken, and struggled to remain conscious.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the lashings stopped. Something bit into her shoulder – hard. Alana let a bone-chilling scream escape her lips. Being burnt was something she'd experienced before, having attempted (and ultimately failed) to forge her own sword when she was twenty. Even being whipped was manageable. But being bitten deeply with dull teeth... That was a brutal king of agony that Alana had not been prepared for.

More goblins swarmed around her, biting at her flesh. Each one sent a fresh wave of pain through her, and each one made another scream spill from her unwilling lips.

The Great Goblin leaned closer, making their attacks stop. "Who are you? What is your purpose here?"

"W-We..." Alana murmured out. "We were just crossing the mountains."

"Why?"

Alana coughed, spilling a bit of blood on the floor from where she'd bitten through her tongue trying to keep quiet. She shook her head, offering no more explanations. "No," she squeezed out. "I won't tell you."

The Great Goblin drew back. "Oh, I think you will." He grinned evilly. "How about I go and get one of your companions? The tall, black haired one, perhaps...? He certainly seemed rather protective of you earlier."

The blood drained from Alana's face as she watched him turn to give the order, knowing without a shadow of a doubt just who he was talking about. "No!" she shouted, stopping him. "No. Don't you dare touch a single hair on his head!"

The goblin was greatly amused by her reaction. "Save him the pain then, and tell me what I want to know. Do you lead this company?" Alana shook her head. "Then who does?"

She looked up, winced, and then very reluctantly whispered, "Oakenshield."

The goblin King smirked. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He turned to a nearby party of goblins. "Bring them back."

* * *

 

The dwarves had heard everything, as they hadn't been dragged particularly far from the main platform. Each stroke of the whip that hit Alana's back echoed into their cages. A few – the Durin brothers, more than the rest – were trying to break out of their cages in a rage. They hated that their friend was being hurt, each of them silently promising slow and painful deaths for the ones who dared to harm her.

Their struggles paused when the whipping suddenly stopped. They were all – Thorin included, he would willingly admit – impressed that she had let out no noise so far, but feared it wouldn't last. They were right to do so. Suddenly, a shrill, agonised scream met their ears. It was followed soon by another, and then another. For many minutes the screams continued, until they suddenly stopped.

Kili's eyes were wide and frantic. He turned to his brother. "You don't think...?" He trailed off, unable to finish the question.

Fili shook his head, his face pale, and he looked like he wanted to throw up. "No, I very much doubt they'd have killed her."

They all jumped when a loud scream of "No!" came from above. Alana's voice, without a doubt. Thorin's heart was hammering in his chest, fast and relentless. He felt panicked, and helpless, though he was careful to make sure he did not outwardly show it. What in Mahal's name was happening to him? His breaths were suddenly coming quick and short, and he had shuddered every time the whip cracked, wincing as if he himself were being struck. In his chest, his heart ached and squeezed, and it _hurt_ in a way he hadn't felt for a very long time. "No, don't you dare touch a single hair on his head!" Alana's voice continued, sounding panicked and desperate. If Thorin didn't know any better, he'd have thought the foul creature was threatening her little brother from the way she reacted.

There were a couple more minutes of silence, before suddenly another swarm of goblins came to them. Thorin, his stubborn dwarven nature shining through, tried again to fight them off, but ultimately, they were still dragged back to the Great Goblin. His eyes immediately sought out Alana's, but her head was dropped, her chin against her chest, and her body was slumped. He could see blood stains covering Alana's dark clothes, and it mixed with her hair as well. Smears of it were left on her skin. Rage and fear bubbled in his gut, but Thorin tried to keep himself contained.

"So, here is the answer to all the riddles," the goblin King sneered. "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror; King under the Mountain." He gave a dramatic bow, while Thorin's eyes flickered to Alana again. How much had she told him? "Oh," the beast continued, "but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain. And you're not a King. Which makes you... nobody, really." He leaned closer to Thorin, whose only response was to sneer in disgust. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, mind you; nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak – an old enemy of yours. A pale orc astride a white warg."

Thorin's eyes narrowed, before flickering to Alana's unmoving form. He was internally begging for her to give a sign that she was still alive. A twitch of her fingers. A shift of her head. Something. _Anything_. Anything that would ease the ache of worry in his chest that her stillness created.

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago," he snapped without thought.

Then he remembered.

Had Alana not told him the exact opposite all that time ago on the cliff top? Why hadn't he believed her? He _should_ have believed her. The goblin leered at Thorin. "So, you think his defiling days are over, do you?" He smirked and turned away to a tiny goblin in some kind of basket. "Send word to the pale orc; tell him I have found his prize."

The little goblin cackled as he pulled a lever, and his basket shot down a system of ropes. The Great Goblin's eyes fell on Thorin again, and the evil grin directed his way made a shiver run down Thorin's spine. "Don't even think about it," he heard Alana's voice growl. Immediately Thorin turned, only to see dark circles under her eyes. Her head was lifted, and she was glaring at the fat goblin. For a moment, her gaze shifted, and she scanned over each of the company, before coming to rest on the King. Her eyes held so much pain, but something softened in her when she saw him.

The goblin gave a grin that was more triumphant than anything else, as if he had been proven right in some unknown matter. With an air of smugness, he moved back to stand in front of his throne while the smaller goblins were examining all their weapons. Thorin cringed when a frightened squeal sounded, and he turned to see a goblin drop Orcrist and scuttle away in fear.

The Great Goblin cried out and backed onto his throne. "I know that sword! It is the Goblin Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks!" He glared at the dwarves, who were watching him warily. Thorin glanced over at Alana again, and saw her wriggling her feet. He caught sight of a blade hilt poking out from her boot and did his best to hide a smirk. The woman was like Fili – they both had many, many weapons hidden on their person. His mind was brought back to reality when he felt a goblin jump on him, and his skin began to be torn at. "Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all!" He saw through a small gap between the foul bodies that surrounded him that the Great Goblin was pointing at him. "Bring me his head!" he ordered.

Thorin growled and tried to fight his way out of their grasp, but the goblins held fast. He found himself quickly wrestled to the ground, and a jagged blade was pressed against his throat. Before the blade could end his life, however, the goblin holding it suddenly squealed and dropped it, gurgling and choking on its own blood, before keeling over backwards.

Everything stopped for a moment, and it was in that time that everyone saw the knife hilt protruding from its back. Thorin recognised it immediately, and turned to see Alana breathing heavily, now free from her binds (while one of the posts she had been tied to was snapped completely in two (he wasn't quite sure how nobody had heard that)) and wearing a murderous glare, which was aimed at the goblin King. If only looks could kill...

Before everyone could get over their shock, a great, bright white light lit the air. Thorin felt himself being pushed backwards against the wooden floor, and for a few seconds, his vision was clouded with little black dots that flashed before his eyes.

Thorin slowly sat up, groaning, and he tilted his head towards the cause of the explosion of light. He exhaled a silent, relieved laugh when he saw a familiar robed figure with a tall, pointed hat.

"Take up arms!" came Gandalf's commanding voice. "Fight! Fight!"

Thorin was on his feet in a second, grabbing his sword.

"Thorin!" He turned when a feminine voice called his name. "Pass me Faradae!" He stared blankly at her, and he was lucky none of the nearby goblins were able to take advantage of his distracted state. Alana shot him a look that was both annoyed and exasperated. "My sword, you idiot!" Thorin grumbled under his breath, but complied, throwing her sword to her. As soon as her fingers wrapped around the hilt, she spun around and decapitated the goblin that had attempted to catch her unawares. Thorin then too began fighting.


	13. On the Edge of a Cliff

Everything that followed was little more than a myriad of blood, flashing blades, screams of pain, and the intense throb of her injuries. Alana stumbled more times than she cared to admit in the first few minutes of what was likely to be a _very_ long fight, her wounds causing her ability to focus to drop, and so she constantly had a protective circle of dwarves around her. Those dwarves mainly consisted of Gloin, Thorin, Bifur, and Nori, however a few of the others occasionally drifted in and out of the little group.

Alana got 'front-row seats' for many of the dwarves' amazingly bizarre weapon choices – including a large, wooden post, and then a ladder – but their luck (if you could call it that) did not last long. The next section of the maze-like goblin kingdom was unfinished, and was suspended on fraying ropes over a dark abyss. Nonetheless, the company pushed forward, and the two ropes keeping the platform in place were severed, causing it to swing forward towards the other side of the ravine.

Thorin's large, warm hand wrapped itself around Alana's, and he glanced at her only long enough for her to see the slightly panicked expression on his face, before he faced resolutely forward and yelled, "Jump!"

Alana lurched forward clumsily, her legs not really strong enough to make the leap. Thankfully Thorin's hold on her was secure, so he was able to pull her onto the ledge on the other side.

With an air of frantic impatience, the half of the company that were able to make it onto the opposite side of the ravine watched as the platform swung back towards the goblins, some of whom scrambled onto it. They didn't get far before the platform had swung back, and the rest of the company jumped off. Fili was able to cut through one of the remaining ropes, and the other snapped due to the sudden weight it had to support alone. The goblins who had foolishly followed fell to their deaths.

Thorin gave Alana a small nudge. "Keep moving," he ordered.

They continued to run, cutting down goblins whenever and wherever they appeared. Alana's attacks were rapidly growing sloppier, slower, and less powerful. Thorin now hovered nearby like her own personal guard, something which both irritated her and flattered her to no end, and he was always there to intervene when things got too difficult for her to handle alone in her weakened state.

He took her hand again and gave her a searching look, before a hardened gleam took over his eyes. "Don't even _think_ about falling behind," he growled.

Alana gave him her best attempt at a smile, although it wasn't all that impressive. "Wouldn't dare," she murmured in response, only to jerk forward when he suddenly picked up the pace. They were following a rolling boulder – no doubt something that Gandalf had a hand in – and so they had to be quick enough to keep up with it in order to make sure they weren't overrun by the goblins coming up behind them.

They were just crossing yet another wooden bridge when the Great Goblin, in all his ugliness, burst up from above.

He sneered. "You thought you could escape me?" He swung at Gandalf with his mace, causing the wizard to stumble back to avoid being hit. "What are you going to do now, _wizard_?" Gandalf scowled and stepped forward again, poking the goblin in the eye with his staff (and causing the goblin to let out several loud wails of pain) before slicing at his stomach. The goblin fell forward, clutching at his open fat as if trying to keep it from spilling out of his body. "That'll do it," he mumbled.

Alana sneered, and Gandalf moved to attack again, when suddenly he paused. Then, with a tiny smirk on his face, he turned around and met her eyes, before stepping back. The intention was clear: he was giving her the honour of taking the life of the beast that had ordered her to be tortured.

Despite her wobbly legs, Alana moved away from Thorin's protective hold and arced her sword without preamble, slicing the neck of the Great Goblin and making him fall forwards, landing flat on his face. But the weight caused the already groaning bridge to collapse. They surged downwards with many screams of terror. Alana's heart flew up into her throat, but she kept her mouth firmly closed. She leapt off the bridge at the last minute and rolled to wear off her momentum, mentally cursing up a storm when her back screamed in protest. She ended up two metres from the bridge.

The dwarves were grumbling and groaning, slowly starting to pull themselves from the wreckage. As she and Gandalf glanced back at them Bofur said, in a light-hearted voice, "Well, that could've been worse."

The goblin King landed on them, squashing them further.

"You've got to be joking!" Dwalin shouted in frustration. Alana couldn't help but laugh, and then began helping the dwarves out from the wreckage, ignoring the pull it caused on her back wounds.

Kili looked up as he was pulled out. He considerably paled. "Gandalf!"

Alana looked up to see hundreds – if not thousands – of goblins coming their way, expressions promising a painful death on their already disgusting faces. "Only one thing can save us now: daylight," Gandalf declared loudly. "Come on!"

Alana hauled Balin to his feet and the two of them took off running, at the back of the group. Her longer legs meant Alana began pushing her way to the front, and soon she was running alongside Gandalf, though her vision was now growing fuzzy at the edges. When the light of day was in sight, she stopped to let the dwarves go past, before chasing them once more.

They exited the mountain, sunlight hitting their faces. Alana breathed a sigh of relief; never had the yellow light been such a gift to her. When they stopped, the Ranger found all the dwarves were looking at her in worry. She let out a pained groan upon coming to a stop, her knees buckling until she was sat on her knees on the floor, desperately trying to catch her breath.

Oin immediately began fussing over her, and while Alana knew it wasn't really necessary, she also knew any attempt to fight him would be useless, so just endured in silence.

Balin stepped forward, making Alana's eyes flicker to him. "We appreciate everything you did for us, lassie, but we have to know... what did you tell him?"

Alana shook her head. "Nothing serious. I told him Thorin's name, and that's it. He seemed to think that was enough." Thorin met her gaze, and his eyes narrowed for a moment. Alana tried to show her honesty by keeping her expression open, and it seemed to convince him – he offered her a curt nod, though his eyes were soft. She then looked around at the whole company. A frown crossed her features. "Hey, where's Bilbo?" They looked around at her words.

"Curse the halfling! Now he's lost?!" Dwalin growled.

"I thought he was with Dori," Gloin stated, and all eyes fell on the grey-haired dwarf.

"Don't blame it on me!" Dori protested hotly.

"Well, when did you last see him?" Gandalf asked, still catching his breath after their frantic escape. Despite his impressive store of stamina, he was still an old man, so all that running and fighting must have really taken it out of him.

"I think I saw him slip away when we were first captured," Nori said.

"Tell me exactly what happened!" Gandalf demanded of the poor dwarf.

"I'll tell you what happened," Thorin said harshly, stepping forwards so he was in the centre of the messy circle they'd subconsciously formed. "Master Baggins saw his chance and took it. He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and warm hearth since he first step foot out his door. We won't be seeing him again. He is long gone."

Alana growled and pushed herself to her feet, stepping threateningly forward, injuries forgotten. "Why do you doubt him so much?" she snapped, matching Thorin's glare. "What has he done to deserve such harsh words? Bilbo is as much a part of this company as I am, or Kili is, or Fili, or anyone else for that matter. Yet still you feel the need to be so hateful towards him. Why? Is it because he is a hobbit? Because he is untested in the wild? You do him a disservice to judge him before he has had the chance to prove himself." She stopped so she was right in front of him, and he was looking up at her with an intense coldness that she hadn't seen for a while. She ignored the dull throb of her heart as she locked eyes with him. "Well I tell you this: Bilbo is not gone. He is coming back. That hobbit is made of sterner stuff than you clearly believe, and he is loyal to you, despite your dismissal of him. So, in future, I suggest you refrain from insulting him again. He is our burglar, after all, and he wouldn't be here if he didn't have an important role to play."

Then she turned away and stalked off, towards the edge of the cliff. She could hear voices behind her as she walked, but ignored them all. She stood by a tree, looking over the land far below. Her dark hair was coming loose, so Alana tugged it out of its hold and let it fall down her back. Whenever there was a gust of wind, it billowed out behind her like a cape. A messy, tangled cape covered in goblin blood.

After a minute, she heard the unfortunately familiar howls and screeches of an orc pack. Cursing, Alana turned back, drawing Faradae as she did. It was only then that she saw their halfling had indeed returned. She would have to greet him again properly later. And give Thorin the 'I told you so' look.

No matter how many wargs Kili managed to shoot down, with or without riders, more kept coming. Eventually, they were getting too close. "Into the trees, all of you!" Gandalf shouted. Alana looked above her head, sheathed her sword and leapt, grabbing hold of the branch. Ignoring the pain that flared in her body, she quickly pulled herself up, but the tree was too tall for many of the dwarves. So she began to help them into the tree.

" _Kili!_ " she yelled. The younger dwarf looked up frantically and caught her hand. Alana let out a gasp as she pulled him up just as the first warg hit their tree. Alana ushered him up, but then a pair of jaws clamped around her ankle. With a cry, she used her other foot to kick it off, leaving long, deep scratches in her left leg and gruesome tears in her boot. Using only her hands and one foot, Alana managed to climb out of the reach of the giant beasts, whimpering the whole way. Alana now had scratches and injuries covering most of her body, and as a result dark spots started to pop up in her vision with renewed frenzy.

Her eyes fell on a pale figure, riding a large, growling white warg. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked again at the creature who had murdered her father, and Thorin's grandfather, and Eru only knew how many others. Hatred boiled in her gut, sinking so deep into her body that it felt like it was intertwining itself with her bones. Her eyes flashed with fury, and all that could be left was that  _thing_  standing before her.

Her ears just about picked up Thorin's disbelieving exclamation. " _Azog_!"

Azog the Defiler smirked as he looked at the company in the trees. His eyes were mainly on Thorin, but every now and then they would flicker to Alana, as if he recognised her vaguely. Which was highly possible.

He sneered and spoke in the black speech. " **Nuzdigid? Nuzdi gast?** " The words – which she didn't understand, thank the Valar – sent a cold shiver down Alana's spine. She could guess that what the pale orc said was not something she'd want to hear. His tone sounded mocking, taunting. " **Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Thorin undag Thrain _._** "

Thorin was staring in horror, despair, and shock at the orc. "It cannot be," he breathed.

Azog turned to his soldiers. " **Kod, torigid biriz. Worori-da!** " At this order (at least, that's what it seemed to be), the wargs all leapt forward and lunged at the trees, snapping and growling. Alana watched with worry in her eyes as the tree in front of her began to creak and groan with all the pressure that was being put on it. Her own tree was also shaking quite violently, and Alana struggled to stay on her branch. Every once in a while, a curse would escape her lips as pain lanced over her body, either from her back being pulled or her foot having too much pressure put on it. Azog cried out again. " **Sho gad adol!** " Alana's blood drained from her face as the wargs continued their attack with even more vigour than before, and the swaying of the tree increased.

A great shudder sounded, and Alana watched in horror as the tree in front of her began to fall. Towards her own. Alana swore as the tree crashed into theirs, and then their tree began to fall. She jumped and landed in the next tree with a cry, but couldn't concentrate on the pain too much, because she was forced to jump again, onto the next tree. This continued twice more, until, finally, they stopped. The relief was only momentary – she looked down, and saw the forest far, _far_ below her. They were literally teetering on the edge of death.

Alana was not oblivious to the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she was also aware that the darkness creeping in at the sides of her vision was getting closer to the centre of her eyes. The immense pain was causing her to lose consciousness, though she clung to the waking world as hard as she could, knowing she would plunge to her death if she didn't.

"Fili!" Alana looked up and saw Gandalf throwing a flaming pinecone down to the blonde dwarf, who quickly used it to catch a pinecone Bilbo held alight. This continued with all the dwarves, Bilbo included – but not Alana, who could barely keep her eyes open at this point – and they began throwing the pinecones at the wargs, forcing the creatures to back away. Alana mentally commended Gandalf for his quick thinking.

Unfortunately, just when things began looking promising, their luck inevitably turned sour. With a loud, echoing creak, their tree began to fall. Alana felt her grip failing, and just as she was about to fall, someone grabbed hold of her. Her eyes opened only marginally, but it was enough to see Kili's worried eyes. It was him that was holding her up.

"Stay with us, Alana," he said, his voice pleading. She said nothing in response, because she could feel a horrible, oppressive weight press down on her mind. It was begging her to simply embrace the darkness. And Alana might have done, had it not been that her life was in danger and doing so would almost certainly ensure her death. Not that her chances looked particularly good even if she did manage to stay awake.

She managed to utter a single word, which was enough to get Kili's attention, despite how quiet and weak her voice was. "Eagles _,_ " she said.

Kili frowned. "What?"

"Tell Gandalf," she squeezed out.

Kili seemed confused, but looked up towards the top of the tree. "Gandalf!" he yelled. Gandalf must have acknowledged him, because he then went on to repeat what she said. Alana had no idea whether Gandalf did as asked, because it was at that point Kili's hold on her slipped. Someone else reached out and grabbed her again just before she fell to her death. Her wrist was being gripped with alarming force, and she was sure she'd have bruises there tomorrow – that is, of course, if she survived. If she was alive, though, she doubted she would care much for a few measly bruises, even if it was her sword-arm.

For the next few minutes she drifted in and out of consciousness with flares of pain. Only when Balin shouted with utter horror and despair "Thorin!" did she managed to push away the darkness for a moment. She gritted her teeth and tried to climb her way up the arm holding her, an inexplicable panic welling in her heart when she heard Thorin's cry of pain, but then a wave of nausea hit her like a boulder and she felt her strength fail her.

In her delirious state of mind everything became muffled and indistinct, though she managed to shake off some of the fuzziness just in time to hear Gandalf shout, "Fili, let her go!"

"Gandalf, are you mad?!" Fili and Kili shouted together. Understanding the meaning behind Gandalf's order, Alana used the last of her strength to wriggle out of the dwarf's grip. She plummeted like a stone, only to land quite heavily on a body of feathers. The impact made a shrill scream escape her lips, and she finally succumbed to the agony, and let blackness wash over her.

* * *

Aching. That's all she could feel; a dreadful, persistent ache in... well, in everything. Alana let a soft groan escape her lips as her eyes peeled open. Immediately her eyes were assaulted by crisp, cold air, and she blinked rapidly to stop them from drying out. Soft feathers were beneath her fingers. She was still on the eagle. Her eyes gazed around, her head moving as little as possible to avoid any discomfort and pain it might cause. She saw that everyone looked alright. The exception – as it always seemed to be – was Thorin. He was lying unconscious in the talons of another eagle just below her. Alana's eagle was the furthest back, and Thorin's was near the front, but even so, she knew it was him.

"Thorin," she pleaded, as if somehow he could hear her from so far away. "Thorin, please. Thorin!" No matter how much she tried, Alana couldn't force her voice to go any louder than a whisper. Though it was expected, when he didn't respond to her pleading she felt her fear for him multiply. What if he died? Oh, Eru, what would she do if he  _died?_  How would she handle the death of the dwarf who simultaneously infuriated her and calmed her down, who understood her like no one else in the world, who had somehow wormed his way into her heart without her noticing? No, that wasn't true. She  _had_  noticed. She noticed when he'd shared with her his greatest fear, his worst truth. Thorin Oakenshield meant far too much to her, but she couldn't find it in her to care.

The eagle tilted, and her head swam dangerously with the movement. Alana fell into unconsciousness again, worry filling her last thought.

* * *

When next she woke, Gandalf was peering down at her with concern.

Alana frowned. "Gandalf," she choked out, "you're leaning on my leg."

Guilt flashed in his aged, wise eyes, and he stood up and stepped back a foot or so. Alana was immediately surrounded by worried dwarves. Kili and Fili on her left, Bofur, Ori and Oin on her right. Oin quickly sat her up and began probing her skin. He looked apologetically at her. "You're going to have to lift your tunic, I'm afraid, lassie," he told her, a light blush painting his cheeks.

Alana nodded, unaffected by these words. Living with Rangers – almost all of whom were male – had meant any reservations she had about revealing herself had been wiped clean from her mind fairly quickly. She hoisted it up so it revealed her stomach and back, but still covered her chest, gritting her teeth as the movement caused a surge of pain to strike her body. Oin quickly began checking over her scratches. Alana dimly noted that a lot of the dwarves looked almost sick when they saw her, so deduced that her wounds were just as bad as they felt.

She met the eyes of their leader. "Are you alright?" she asked him, wincing as Oin pressed a particularly large, raw wound.

Astonishment flashed across his eyes for a moment, before Thorin nodded. "I'm fine. You're in more urgent need for healing than I am."

Alana hesitated. "What happened to you up there?"

Thorin's eyes became hard, and he turned away without a word. Alana's confused frown followed him, but when no one moved to provide an explanation, she decided not to probe. They'd tell her when they were ready. Oin suddenly caught her attention again. He was holding some green paste in his hands. His gaze was worried. "This'll hurt," he warned, before pressing them to her weeping injuries. Alana screwed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw, a sob escaping her lips at the harsh sting it brought.

When she opened them again, her eyes became saucers. She – with much trouble and pain – pushed herself to lean further forward, peering through many pairs of legs. "Is that... Erebor?" she asked, looking at the distant, solitary mountain.

Pride and happiness filled many eyes, and while most followed her gaze, some didn't. "Aye, that it is," Gloin said, and Alana could detect he almost choked up at those words.

She smiled. "Well, thank the Valar." She slumped backwards and gazed up at the blue sky. She turned her head back to the mountain, and her smile widened. "It looks beautiful," she murmured to herself, but she knew some others heard, if their smiles were anything to go by at least.

Exhaustion hit her like a wave, and before she could do anything to try and stop it, Alana was dragged back into sleep.


	14. Hunted Again

The rather peculiar company of one hobbit, one wizard, one woman, and thirteen dwarves moved slowly down the steep, tall steps of the Carrock. Thorin, in his eternal stubbornness, led them forward at a pace far too harsh for his severe wounds – unfortunately, magic could only do so much, though he did an admirable job of pretending he was fine. Alana trailed at the back, gradually falling further and further behind, and having to rely on Dwalin for support as she stumbled behind the others. She avoided putting weight on her mangled ankle as much as she could, though since the steps were as large as they were, this wasn't an easy task.

Their trip on the eagles' backs had created a large gap between them and their hunters, meaning they could get away with a less hurried pace. Thorin had even agreed to give them a day of rest when they reached the bottom, but to get there involved a hellish climb down steps too large for even for the tallest of their group to handle comfortably.

So, this was how they found themselves descending slowly from the top of the Carrock, in a single file line except for those who were too injured to walk without support (not that these people didn't try to convince the others they were fine to go alone). 

The sun was just beginning to dip below the treeline when the company finally reached the bottom of the Carrock, all hungry due to the fact they had no food, and had been unable to hunt during the day, for obvious reasons. As soon as they found a decent place to camp for the night however, Kili marched off into the trees to find something to eat.

As much as she wished to, Oin would not allow Alana to go and wash off in the river before he had checked her wounds. Her back was almost black and blue from severe bruising, except for the small area on her side where the red-hot brand had been placed, leaving a dark red and angry mark that throbbed dully. Her shoulders and arms were covered in the bite marks left behind by the goblins. The worst of her injuries lay on her foot. Her right ankle was almost completely obscured by the blood that had flowed from the deep scratches (which had reopened at some point during the day), and her foot was cold and pale from the lack of blood it was receiving. Oin informed her that it was fine for the moment, however without his herbs there was little he could do to stave off infection beyond wrapping a bandage tightly around her ankle and hoping it would be enough to keep it clean. 

By the time all her injuries had been checked, Kili had returned carrying two limp pheasants in his left hand and four rabbits in his right. While Bombur lit a fire and began roasting the meat, Oin moved away to check on Thorin's injuries, though not without sternly ordering Alana not to move for a good half-hour.

Alana resigned herself to the fact that she would be overly doted on for the next several days until she healed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like a hopeless invalid," she replied bluntly to the blonde Prince as he flopped onto the ground beside her. 

"Ah, come on, your leg was used as a chew toy by a warg," he joked. "What did you expect?"

"Not to have my leg used as a chew toy," she muttered. Fili just laughed. "How's Thorin?"

Fili shrugged. "I wouldn't know – he's not letting anyone see him but Oin. And Oin keeps sprouting stuff about patient privacy. Sounds like an excuse to me."

"Thorin's the leader of this company," Alana reminded him. "No doubt he feels he can't afford to show weakness in front of you."

"He's not invincible," Fili shot back.

Alana snorted. "Tell that to _him_."

He was quiet for a moment. "Uh, no thanks," he murmured, looking slightly terrified by the idea. Alana chuckled, only to wince when her back twinged in complaint at the movement. Fili chewed his lip for a moment, before asking her, "What did they do to you?"

Alana's eyes widened, and she shuddered as the memory sprung up – unbidden – in her mind. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because we could hear." Her face whipped up in alarm. "We weren't so far away that we were completely in the dark. I know no one else will ask, but we all want to know." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry. You don't have to te–"

"It's fine," Alana bit out. "They branded me first, which is the reason for the mark on my side." She shuddered again, and Fili rubbed her arm comfortingly. "Then they whipped me."

"We heard," Fili told her with a coarseness to his voice.

"And then they bit me."

"They bit you?"

A grimace flashed across the Ranger's face. "It was the worst of them all, you know. Goblins have incredibly dull teeth."

Fili cringed. "Alright, I think I get it." He attempted a smile. "Thank you for not handing us over."

Alana shrugged. "I told him about Thorin."

"It could have been worse. Besides, he's dead now, so what does it matter?"

"It could have changed everything."

"Don't dwell on what could have been," Thorin called from across the camp. It was only then the two realised their conversation was not quite as private as they had thought. "We are here now, and that's what counts."

"You were hurt because of me."

"You also saved my life," he reminded her. "And we got out fine. Just forget it ever happened, if you can."

Slowly, and not without hesitation, Alana nodded her head. "I will try," she said. Thorin nodded in satisfaction, and suddenly the tense atmosphere was gone. Conversations started up everywhere. Fili moved to join his brother, leaving Alana alone again, but she didn't mind. She took this chance simply to lift her eyes to the stars that shone merrily above their heads.

"Alana."

Her gaze lowered, and she found Bofur in front of her with a portion of meat in his hands. With a grateful smile, the Ranger accepted the meat and began eagerly digging in along with the rest of the company. The silence that wrapped itself around them was comforting, for while there was no speech, and there was no need for any. The mere presence of each dwarf was enough of a reminder to them all that they had survived with no casualties. The injuries that had been sustained would heal with time.

Once Alana had finished her meal, she met Oin's eye and received a brief nod from him, before struggling to get to her feet. Limping badly, the Ranger made her way towards the sound of running water, thankful she could take the chance to clean her clothes and body of their coating of grime, blood, dirt and old sweat.

Having to peel her tunic away from her side was painful, as she had to lift her arms above her head, pulling at every sore part of her body. She balanced haphazardly on her uninjured foot as she tried to pull off her breeches, having left her mutilated boots back at the camp. Eventually though, she settled on the ground, and did her best not to let her clothes tug at the bandage currently choking her ankle.

When finally Alana's clothes all lay at the side of the bank, she tiptoed into the river, hissing through gritted teeth when the cold water stung at her foot. Setting her jaw, Alana slowly walked towards the middle of the river, where the water was at its deepest. At this place, only her shoulders and head were above the surface of the river.

With agonisingly slow and cautious movements, Alana began to systematically clean each part of her body. Her hair was a nightmare, especially since she had nothing to use to comb it out (not that she could, since holding her arms above her head caused her back to burn with fresh pain), but she managed to rid it of the majority of its filthy load. Once she was thoroughly cleaned, Alana lay herself along the surface of the water, bobbing gently with the current.

As she lay there, staring up at the glittering stars, her lips parted, and she started to sing.

 

" _Tinuviel elvanui_

_Elleth alfirin edhelhael_

_O hon ring finnil fuinui_

_A renc gelebrin thiliol..._ "

 

A sigh left her lips as the final word escaped them, before she scrambled out of the river. She knew the dwarves, as much as she loved them, were incredibly protective of her simply because she was female. If she was gone too long, they'd likely send someone to look for her.

And indeed, just as she was pulling her tunic on, Thorin stomped into the clearing.

"You came yourself?" Alana asked in disbelief. "Didn't anyone protest because of your wounds?"

Thorin managed to look somewhat sheepish, an expression Alana found frustratingly endearing. "As far as I am aware, none of them saw me leaving."

Alana sighed in exasperation. "Thorin, you're the leader of this group! How can you go wandering off on your own without telling anyone? They'll be in a panic within _minutes_."

The dwarf rolled his eyes. "I think you're overreacting, Alana."

Alana folded her arms over her chest, only to wince when her wounds tugged painfully. "And _I_ think you underestimate just how much these dwarves value you."

That seemed to catch him off guard. "What do you mean?"

Alana chuckled. "You really don't see it, do you?" His blank expression told her everything she needed to know. "Thorin, each and every one of those dwarves in that camp has an astonishingly high opinion of you. And not just the dwarves – Gandalf, Bilbo and I do, as well. The thing is, you never expect more of us than you give yourself, and you expect the world from us. You demand every ounce of our being and then a little bit more. And we're all absolutely happy with that because what you give in return is almost beyond imagination. We will follow you anywhere, Thorin Oakenshield, be it into battle or directly into the Halls of Waiting, and with no hesitation. You are a natural leader, but you don't see it. That in and of itself is an admirable quality – you see all of us as living people, and you do not expect to be given something without somehow returning the favour."

Thorin was speechless for a good few seconds. "You... really believe that?"

The insecurity and doubt in his voice made Alana want to unashamedly walk up to him and hug him, then smack him over the head for being so dense. Instead, she just smiled. "Of course I do! It's hard not to believe something that has been proven true. I... We all think the world of you." Her confidence suddenly dried up, leaving her to lower her gaze and nervously toe the ground, only to stop when once again her injuries drew attention to themselves. "You know," she began thoughtfully, "many people are driven away, I think, by your inability to sugar coat anything. You are truthful every day, painfully so sometimes. You underplay your own pains and needs in order to provide for those you love and care for. I..." She nervously bit her bottom lip, before catching herself and forcing her to stop.

"You... what?" Thorin's voice was low and tender, though his curiosity was also clear.

"I like that you don't try to hide yourself away," she admitted shyly. "You lay out your beliefs, your strengths, and, yeah, sometimes your weaknesses too. That's an incredibly difficult thing to do. Each time I discover something new about you, I can't help but feel so privileged to have befriended someone like you." Alana rubbed the back of her neck. "And I would appreciate it if you forgot I just said all that. I think I'm beginning to lose my mind."

Thorin chuckled. "I can keep a secret," he promised with a crooked grin, one that spread across his whole face and lit up his eyes. "But to promise to forget it?" He shook his head. "I can't do that, I'm afraid." His face became serious again. "Thank you," he murmured. "Sometimes it helps to be reminded that I'm not alone."

"You'll never be alone, Thorin. You've always had someone fighting beside you. And even when you're gone from this world, everyone you had to live through losing will be back where they belong – by your side."

"Yes, well, hopefully that day is still a long way off."

Alana snorted. "Don't for a moment think I believe you're going to die soon. No, as long as you allow people to help you, the day you pass will be after a long life, and you are dying of old age rather than a blade to the gut." She smirked. "And with that happy note, let's get back to the camp. We could both use the rest."

* * *

Their day of rest did them all a lot of good, though to call it a 'day' would be a bit generous – it was mid-afternoon when their luck took a turn for the worst. Somehow the orc party had caught up with them already, the howls and cries of the pack causing the company to quickly pack up their camp and begin moving again.

Thorin and Alana's severe injuries had both gotten better, Thorin's more so than hers; Alana still needed the aid of one of the dwarves to move beyond ten metres, and even then, she struggled to move quicker than a snail.

As dusk began to creep over them, Thorin ordered Bilbo to do some scouting. His renewed faith in the hobbit's burglar abilities was clear to them all, and he offered Bilbo an encouraging smile when the poor halfling blanched when he was told of his duty. Nonetheless, he scampered off towards the north in search of a better vantage point.

"Alana."

Alana moved her eyes away from the surrounding trees and met the hardened gaze of their leader. "Yes?"

"We may have to run. Will you be okay?"

Alana grimaced, but nodded. "I'm sure whatever pain I put myself through in doing so will be better than being ripped apart. I'll be fine."

Thorin's face twisted at the rather gruesome image her words prompted, but he nodded anyway. Alana could see however, through examining the set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders, that he did not wish to ask this of her. But they both knew they had little other choice – she could not be carried by one of the dwarves, so it was run or be killed.

When Bilbo came tumbling back down the hill, there was an expression of profound terror on his face. His chest heaved as he came to a stop. 

"How close is the pack?" Dwalin demanded at once.

"Too close; a couple of leagues, no more. But that's not the worst of it."

"Did they pick up our scent?"

"Not yet, but they will. No, we have another problem."

"Did they see you?" Gandalf demanded. "They saw you!"

"No, that's not it!"

Gandalf smiled. "What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse; excellent burglar material." The dwarves murmured in agreement, but Alana was watching Bilbo's growing agitation.

"Will you– Will you just _listen_?!" Everyone quietened. "I am trying to tell you there is something else out there!"

"What form did it take?" Gandalf asked slowly, as if already knowing the answer. "Like a bear?"

"Y-Yes," Bilbo replied, startled by the wizard's question, "but bigger. Much bigger."

"You knew about this beast?" Bofur demanded. Gandalf didn't reply, but instead turned away to think about their options. Bofur turned to Thorin. "I say we double back."

Thorin dismissed the idea immediately. "We'd be run down by a pack of orcs," he stated gravely.

Gandalf suddenly whirled around again, having clearly come to some sort of conclusion. "There is a house," he said, "not far from here, where we might take refuge."

"Whose house?" Thorin instantly shot back. "Are they friend or foe?"

"Neither," the wizard stated. "He will help us, or he will kill us."

A heavy sigh left Thorin's lips. "What choice do we have?"

As if answering the dwarf's question, an ear-splitting roar echoed through the night air, causing each member of the company to jump and reach for their weapons.

"None," Gandalf stated glumly.

"We need to move," Alana muttered, and after receiving several nods of agreement, the dwarves took off with Gandalf leading the way and Alana limping at the rear. She didn't fail to notice how Thorin and, surprisingly, Bilbo lingered close to her. They seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement to make sure she didn't fall behind. While she was grateful for the sentiment, the fact it was necessary at all vexed her.

They ran for close to an hour near constantly, pausing for a few seconds every few minutes to listen out for any sign of their pursuers. Alana's foot wound had torn open after about fifteen minutes, despite the bandage, and due to the slow decrease of blood in her body she often found herself stumbling. Thankfully Thorin was always there to steady her before she fully collapsed. Still, this couldn't go on much longer, for the pain in her foot was borderline unbearable, and was only getting worse with each step.

As luck would have it, the next time they paused the snarls and barks of the orc pack were drowned out by the bellow of the bear. It was a dismaying reminder that the company were being tracked by not one, but _two_ dangerous adversaries.

"Move, come on!" Gandalf yelled, and they began running again. Thorin had to yank on Bombur's beard in order to snap the dwarf out of his fear-induced stupor.

Instinct drove Alana to reach out and grab Thorin's hand, sending him a frantic look when he turned to look back at her. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, then started to pull her faster. Alana let out a yelp of pain as her foot caught a precarious branch, which then rolled under her foot, and she twisted her ankle. Her breath was coming out in high-pitched pants by the time they reached the open plain, revealing a large wooden house which was bordered by a tall, mossy stone wall.

"To the house!" Gandalf yelled. "Run!" 

Their desperate sprint to the house became even more frenzied when the sound of heavy footfalls reached them. Alana figured it would be mere seconds before the monstrous bear was upon them. She did her best to fight past the agony searing through her body and the black spots dancing in front of her, knowing that falling behind would mean her death.

The first dwarf to reach the giant door to the house was, strangely enough, Bombur, though he simply ran head-on into it and bounced straight back off. "Open the door!" Gandalf called forward. As he did, Alana glanced back, just in time to see the massive form of a brown bear burst from the trees behind them.

Thorin, hand still grasping Alana's, fought his way through the crowd of dwarves in front of them, then hurriedly lifted the door barricade they'd somehow all managed to miss. The doors flew open, and the company rushed inside, spinning around to slam the door shut. The snout of the enraged bear was caught between the two doors, and it took the combined effort of six dwarves to provide enough force to cause the bear to withdraw.

Over the sound of heavy breathing came a single word – "Ow."

The company turned to see Alana gripping her side, foot completely drenched in her own blood, and her skin was pale enough to be mistaken for snow.

Thorin was alert immediately. "Oin, take her somewhere more private and take care of her wounds."

"Thorin, you–"

"My own can wait," he snapped in return, predicting what she was going to say. His eyes and tone both softened. "If it pleases you I will have them looked at afterwards. But _only_ afterwards."

Alana sighed heavily, only to wince when her side twinged again. Still she nodded, then accepted the hand Oin offered and hobbled over to a wooden column with his aid. Once there, she draped herself on the ground, back supported by the column. She seemed unable to dredge up the strength to feel the twinges her back was making in response to that. Her chest was rising and falling very quickly, and her sight was growing ever dimmer.

Then, something strange happened. A cold sensation washed over her, shutting off her senses. She was suddenly numb to everything – there was no pain and there was no fear. The darkness at the edges of her vision crept closer to the centre. A tiny voice whispered to her. It begged her – _give in to the dark_ , it said. And she wanted to. She wanted to more than she'd ever wanted anything before.

There was a stranger before her, this she could see, and she knew he was saying something, but she couldn't hear him. She frowned lightly, trying to work out his words from the shapes his mouth was forming, but he was speaking too fast for her to be able to keep up. There was a moment when his head turned, before he moved away completely and was replaced by someone... familiar.

She knew this face... Right? There was something comforting in the dark hair, the dark beard, the stormy eyes that sat beneath thick eyebrows. Who was he? He was important to her, yes? But... Why couldn't she remember him? If he was important, surely then she'd know who he was. What was his name?

He looked worried. Why was he worried? What was wrong? Was it her? Was something wrong with her?

The man before her frowned and then gently grasped the sides of her face with both hands. Her fuzzy eyes zeroed in on the creases between his brows. They shouldn't have been there. He wasn't happy. He should have been happy, been smiling, been laughing. Something was very wrong.

With all the strength she could muster, she lifted her shaking hand and pressed a finger between his eyebrows. She gave him a stern look, but his frown only deepened. She opened her mouth to speak, but she wasn't sure what to say. So, she settled with something simple.

"Smile."

And then everything came crashing back. Her senses and the memories. She knew who he was again.

Thorin sighed. "How can I do such a thing when one of my company is in such pain?" he asked her softly.

Alana tried to force a comforting smile, but it came out more as a grimace. "You should smile more," she murmured. "You look nice when you smile. It lights up... the whole... room." Her head lolled to the side, and the darkness crept further over her.

Thorin's warm hands gently shook her. "Stay awake, Alana," he ordered gruffly. "Don't fall asleep."

"So tired," she murmured. Alana gripped his sleeve. "Going to... rest... now."

He shook her harder. "No, Alana! Stay strong. We need you awake."

"But–"

"Stay awake!"

Alana stared at him for a long moment, before sighing. "I'll do my best."

"No," he said sternly. "You _will not_ fall asleep. Got it?"

Huffing, Alana nodded. "Fine," she grumbled. Thorin stared at her for a long time, before nodding in return and stepping back to allow Oin access to her.

Despite her promise, within just a few minutes Alana's eyes were too heavy to keep open. The pain in her ankle soared even higher when Oin pressed an alcohol-soaked rag against her wound, and it was enough to send her tumbling over the edge once more.


	15. Advice From The Young

Thorin could hardly stop himself from pacing up and down the length of the skin-changer's home, feeling antsy and worried and downright _terrified_ that Alana's strength would prove too little to keep her awake. Every wince or groan that came from her caused him to flinch. He didn't know why, or so he tried to convince himself, but every tiny sound that slipped from her made him wish with each bone in his body that he was in her place. She'd been through far too much, and he'd give anything to spare her from this trauma.

And of course, the little voice in his head wasn't helping at all. _Your fault, your fault, your fault_ , it whispered, and the problem was... he believed it. He felt like he had failed her in some monumental way, that he had somehow betrayed her trust. And that hurt. It all hurt _so much_ , and he felt like he was going completely out of his mind–

"Thorin!"

He'd been so absorbed in his own thoughts that Thorin hadn't seen Alana slip into unconsciousness, and so when Oin called to him his eyes snapped towards the limp form of their Ranger. He was at Oin's side in a flash, heart in throat.

"What happened?" he asked urgently.

Oin shook his head. "I think the alcohol was too much for her to bear. She blacked out as soon as the rag touched her ankle."

Thorin sighed and ran his hands slowly over his face, hoping that it would drag his nerves and tension as they went. It did not. "Is she going to be alright?

Oin pursed his lips. "It's... difficult to tell at this point. On the one hand the blood loss could kill her if we're not careful. On the other, she's undoubtedly one of the strongest women I've ever met. If anyone can pull through, it's her."

Thorin tried to ignore the way his heart stuttered and clenched in his chest when Oin said this wound could mean Alana's death. "What are the chances of her survival?"

"About half," Oin said grimly.

"Half?!"

Oin nodded. "Either the injuries on her back or the ones on her foot, if alone, would have been absolutely fine. But she's exhausted, and her body has to deal with healing both sets of injuries simultaneously, when each is adding considerable strain to the other. If she survives – and it's a big 'if' – then chances are she won't be good to move on from here for days."

"She'd never let us leave her behind," Thorin murmured with a deep frown. "She's far too stubborn for that."

"She may have no choice."

Thorin shook his head. "Even if we snuck away, she'd be after us within hours. She'd catch up within a day. We will rest here for as long as we are able to give her the best chance of healing."

"And if she doesn't survive?"

Thorin was quiet for a very long time, his brain having difficulty comprehending the question. "Then we will craft her a tomb in her honour," he said at last, feeling his chest tighten at the mere thought. "The dúnedain have above-ground burials where they can achieve them. I know she would want the same."

Oin let out a long sigh, but nodded. "If that is your wish."

"It is," Thorin said sharply. "I will not allow her to have anything less than she deserves." And with no further words, Thorin spun on his heel and made his way over to where the rest of his company were resting.

He sat down in the closest free space to Alana, rested his elbows on his knees, and then let his head drop into his hands. He was outwardly calm, if not a little concerned, but on the inside, his heart was crying out. Not knowing Alana's fate was almost as bad as knowing for certain she was going to die. And the thought of having to exist without her was too painful to even consider. She _had_ to survive.

* * *

 

Alana still hadn't woken by the time the first rays of sunlight peeked up over the horizon. Thorin had gotten barely an hour of sleep, and even that had been plagued by fierce nightmares that stopped him feeling rested when he woke. In the end, he'd given up on trying to fall back into unconsciousness, and had moved to sit where he could keep any eye on her.

Just before dawn, Kili had silently joined him and sat by his side. He was a sorry sight. He had dark circles under his eyes, which themselves held little of the spark they used to, his skin was pale, and he looked physically sick. Neither said a word for a long time.

"What's wrong, Kili?" Thorin asked at last, slightly apprehensive. He wasn't good at this – asking what was wrong, trying to provide comfort. It wasn't in his nature to do so, but Kili looked so terrible that he couldn't just sit silently.

"I'm scared, uncle," Kili admitted quietly. "I'm scared for her. I'm scared of losing her."

A thrill of unease settled in the pit of Thorin's stomach. Kili didn't... He couldn't... Right? "You care for her?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Kili attempted a smile, but it fell quickly. That in and of itself was a worrying sight; on a normal day, the lad never _stopped_ smiling. "Not in the way you do," he said. He let out a tired chuckle when Thorin opened his mouth to protest. "We've all seen it, uncle. In fact, I think the only ones who haven't are you and Alana." He shook his head. "No, I don't care for her like that, but she still feels like family, you know? Like a sister, or..." He smirked weakly. "Or an aunt."

Thorin sighed quietly. "Kili..."

"You should tell her, you know?" Thorin raised his eyebrows. Was he honestly about to get _advice_ from his own nephew? Kili's lips quirked up at the sides. "Stop denying it, uncle," he said, with half-feigned exasperation. "I know you're doing everything you can to fight what you feel, but it's there. It's about time you accepted it."

"There's nothing to accept," Thorin stately gruffly, turning his eyes to the floor at the end of his feet.

Kili groaned. "Stop being stub–"

"Kili," Thorin cut in sharply. "There's nothing to accept because it's already been done."

Kili's eyebrows rose. "So you admit you love her?"

A frown crossed Thorin's face. He knew he cared for her more than he should, knew there was something about her that caused the blood in his veins to all but _sing_ , but... love? Could it really be called that? Could it really be so... final?

He glanced over at Alana, and – with a calmness that surprised even him – considered the thought.

When he met her it felt like he'd already lost his entire world. There was too much pain he'd had to live through, and he'd given up on the thought of happiness. This whole quest was a stupid risk, and he knew it. He could barely dredge up the will to admit that he had regretted the decision to reclaim the Lonely Mountain for a while, but then determination had chased that regret away. He was never one to back down, and with this quest he had a chance of clawing back a part of the life he longed for so dearly, and not just for himself. For Fili and Kili too. For his people. Still... there was a part of him that could not bring itself to believe they'd achieve it.

But then there she was. There was something in those blue eyes that was so beautiful, so safe and warm. In just one look it felt like he was  _home_ , like the fragments of his life were finally slotting together. That first day they talked, just the two of them, outside Bag End, she had opened up a rift inside him that he hadn't known needed to be opened. He remembered the conversation, and he remembered feeling her pain then, too. He knew only too well what it was like to have a home ripped from you. To feel the weight of responsibility that only someone with a kingdom to rule could ever feel. She didn't know it, but on that day she provided Thorin with the first person outside of his immediate family who could ever really understand him.

But love? Was that what he felt? Camaraderie, of course. Care, yes. But love?

Alana made him question every promise he'd ever made to himself. She made him open up when he didn't want to let even himself in. She had endured his anger, his bitterness, his icy heart, and for some reason hadn't turned her back on him. Instead, Alana had turned all that on its head and helped to heal age-old wounds that he had forgotten were even there, leaving him feeling lighter and happier than he'd been in decades.

Thorin's eyes settled on her ankle again, and when his gaze zeroed in on the blood staining the white cloth wrapped around it, when he felt her agony as if it were his own, he knew his answer without a shadow of doubt. He turned to Kili and offered a tiny smile. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "I love her."

Kili’s entire face lit up when he smiled. "Then you have to tell her!"

"Kili, I–"

"Uncle, she deserves to know!" Kili argued, knowing instantly what Thorin was going to say. "You don't know what you've been doing to her," he muttered despondently. "When you would argue with her, or shout at her, or dismiss her, she always showed nothing on the outside, but it would always hurt her. Did you know that? She tried to hide it from the world but when you did anything _wrong_ to her she would move away and sit by herself, because she didn't want anyone to see just how hard your words hit home."

Thorin stared at his nephew, guilt and regret flashing across his eyes as he glanced back at the woman whom he now believed to be a gift to him from Mahal himself. "I know," he told Kili quietly. "I _do_ know what my words did to her. But there's a reason I said them."

"And what is that?" Kili asked bitterly. It was the first time he had ever used such a tone with his uncle, and Thorin couldn't help but inwardly flinch.

"Life isn't easy," he began slowly, wondering how he could possibly put his thoughts into words. "She knows that as well as I. But when she joined us, she hadn't experienced the worst of things. Not even close. Many of us – Alana included – have witnessed the deaths of loved ones. She knows that pain. But there are worse pains out there – like in Goblin Town, when she–" He cut himself off sharply, unable to get the rest of that sentence out. With a long sigh, he ran his hands over his face. "From the moment we met, I could sense in her the extent of her loyalty. Her dedication to anyone she has sworn her service to. She can fight as well as the best of us, and she has spent enough time in the wild for me to know she can look after herself. But I... I was afraid. Afraid of what would happen to her if she were to journey too far with the company. And now, it seems, those fears have come to fruition. Her devotion to us is what put her in this position. She was forced to experience all that torture, and now she's fighting for her very life, all because she was _too_ _damn loyal_." Thorin's hands gripped his arms strongly enough for him to feel the beginnings of bruises forming already. His arms ached, but he couldn't let go. He shook his head, fighting the itch in the backs of his eyes. "I don't want to say those things to her," he murmured, "and I never did. But part of me thinks I have to, hoping it will drive her away from us, and away from the danger we're putting her in."

"She'd never leave," Kili muttered, and Thorin was relieved to hear all the bitterness in his voice had disappeared. "You matter too much to her."

Thorin chuckled without humour. "Don't sell yourself short, Kili. She cares for us all."

"But it's you who makes the most difference," his nephew said, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knee. "She'd follow you into the Halls of Waiting if you asked it of her."

Thorin shook his head. "I think you overestimate the nature of her feelings towards us."

"Towards you, you mean?" Kili glanced at him in the corner of his eye, before turning his eyes back towards Alana. "Don't hide your feelings from her, Thorin. I promise that she reciprocates them, and to deny yourself something you should have been given a long time ago is just making things worse for yourself. She deserves your love as much as you deserve hers."

Thorin was silent for a long while, mulling things over in his mind. "Perhaps," he said at last, "when the quest is over, and the danger is behind us."

Kili shook his head vigorously. "The danger is what makes it important you tell her as soon as possible. If one of you were to die soon the other would always live on regretting not choosing differently. You should tell her while we're here, before we leave this house. That way you can go through the rest of the journey knowing you did all in your power to make you both happy."

"It's not as easy as just... _saying_ it, Kili."

"Isn't it?" Kili looked over at Thorin again, a twinkle to his eyes. "Sure, you have to drag up the courage to push those words from your mouth, but in the end the words themselves are easy to say."

Thorin snorted. "And you know this how, exactly?"

Kili shrugged. "I've known people who have gone through the exact same thing as you. They've told me all about it. Once you let your other half know how much you care for her, there's a massive weight lifted off your shoulders. One of them claimed it was the best feeling in the world, especially when she accepted him."

"That is what worries me," Thorin admitted.

Kili smiled. "She'll accept you," he stated with confidence. "In fact, if she says 'no', I'll cut my hair and shave off my beard."

Thorin shook his head. "I'd never ask that of you, Kili."

"You don't have to," Kili retorted. "Believe me, I don't want to do it, but I'm trying to get you to see you have nothing to worry about. I've no doubt in my mind that she cares for you the same way you care for her. The next step is just... telling each other."

Thorin sighed, before nodding. "If you believe it so."

"I  _know_ it's like that," Kili said forcefully.

Thorin smiled a little, before standing, for some reason feeling his fatigue more keenly now. He knew he should use this opportunity to get some sleep – Mahal only knew how long it would be before it happened again. "Are you coming?" he asked Kili.

Kili shook his head. "No, I'm going to stay for a bit longer. Besides, I think someone should be keeping an eye on her. She's lasted this long, but she's not completely safe just yet."

Thorin nodded, before turning around. He paused just before the stepped out of his nephew's sight. "Kili..."

"I promise I won't tell anyone this conversation happened," his nephew said instantly, and Thorin's lips twitched. "Except Fili," he added as an afterthought.

Thorin nodded his agreement. He knew how much the brothers meant to one another. Having one withhold information from the other would prove impossible, so he might as well just let it happen before Kili burst his banks and ended up announcing it to the world. "Goodnight, Kili," he murmured, turning around.

"Goodnight, uncle."

Thorin smiled to himself when he heard Kili's reply. He knew he was often hard on his nephews, but they were like his very own sons. He wanted only to teach them that the world was a harsh place and that they had to be serious and careful sometimes. But he loved those boys more than life itself, and would do anything to keep them safe. To hear Kili say goodnight to him like that reminded him of the lad when he'd been a young dwarfling, and for a brief moment Thorin wished to have that past back. Things were easier back then. But he quickly pushed the thought away and settled back down in his spot, before his eyes slid closed and he slipped easily into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

When Thorin woke again, half the company were up making breakfast. The smell of bread and honey wafted over to him, and his stomach gave a begging rumble. With a soft exhale, Thorin got to his feet, pulled on his coat and boots, and then walked calmly over to where Kili, Fili, Balin, Dwalin, Gloin, and Bifur were all setting the large, wooden table.

"Oin's checking over the lass," Balin told him when their eyes met. In the corner of his eye, Thorin spotted Kili exchanging a grin with Fili, and so deduced that his oldest nephew already knew about the things that were said the night before. "He's been gone a good few minutes, so he should be back any moment."

Thorin nodded, before setting about aiding his kin with getting breakfast sorted. As they worked, more and more of the company joined them, until just Bilbo, Alana and Oin were missing.

"Has there been any sign of our host?" Gandalf queried as the dwarves settled at the table to eat. Thorin picked up his food and then leaned against a wooden column, from which he could see both Alana and the rest of the group. It looked like Alana had a little more colour to her cheeks now, which was an encouraging sight.

"He came in just when Gloin and I were getting up," Oin called from his position crouched at Alana's side. He was smearing a strange, green poultice onto her ankle. "It was him who showed us where his pantry is."

"He said he was going outside to chop some more firewood," Gloin continued. "He'll be back in a few minutes, I'd bet."

Dori looked between the brothers. "How did he seem?" He was clearly very wary of the skin-changer, although that was understandable given yesterday's close call.

"He was quite gruff, but he seemed pleasant enough," Gloin commented with a shrug. "I must say, his attitude was a bit better when he saw Oin looking after the lass."

"Perhaps he's something of a healer himself," Gandalf mused aloud. "Well, as long as he is fine with us taking his food..."

Gloin was quick to reassure him. "He welcomed us to it. And you'll see that when he comes back."

"Thorin!"

Thorin turned his head to see Oin ushering him over. He pushed away from the wooden column and walked over to where their healer was waiting. "What is it?" he questioned, well aware of the probing eyes on him.

Oin positively beamed. "She's awake," he announced, then quieter, he added, "and she's asking to see you." With that, he clapped Thorin on the shoulder and walked away, joining his brother at the table. Thorin glanced down to see Alana's bleary eyes looking back at him.

Smiling, he crouched in front of her. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Alana shrugged weakly. "I've been better," she murmured, her words slurring a little due to her drowsiness. "Were you seen to?"

Thorin rolled his eyes, before shaking his head. "I'm fine, Alana. Our main concern right now is you."

Alana frowned. "Thorin, you have to look after yourself. You're our leader. We need you to be okay, more than anyone in the group. 'Sides, you promised you'd have your wounds looked at."

Thorin's smile returned, a fond gleam to his eyes. "My wounds are well on their way to healing – dwarves are much more resilient than you seem to think." His face fell, smile disappearing. "Alana, you could very easily have died last night. Oin said you had just as much chance of surviving as passing. My injuries aren't even open. Please, stop worrying yourself over me, and think about your own health for once."

Alana huffed, but then nodded. "Very well," she allowed, before a sheepish look overcame her face. "I don't suppose you have anything to eat, do you? My stomach's raging like a moody troll."

Thorin grinned lightly, before he stood up to prepare a plate of food for her. He spoke to the company while he piled bread, cheese, honey-cakes and a few berries onto the plate. "She's already got a healthy appetite," he informed them. "I'm confident she'll be absolutely fine."

The company let out a collective breath of relief, and most of them seemed to sag a little in their seats. Thorin moved to return to Alana and give her her food when the front door opened with a thundering _bang_ , and a man of easily eight feet stepped in. The whole company froze as they found themselves pinned under the weight of two piercing, golden eyes.


	16. Advice From The Old

"Here you go," Thorin said, passing the plate down to Alana.

Her eyebrows rose. "This is a lot of food," she noted, a croakiness to her voice that Thorin had a feeling wouldn't fade any time soon.

"You'll be needing it."

Alana grinned up at him. "Oh, that wasn't a complaint."

Thorin shook his head good-naturedly. "Then you best get to it. Are you alright on your own for a bit?"

Already engrossed in her hearty breakfast, all Alana did was nod. Thorin chuckled to himself under his breath, before he straightened and retook his place against the wooden column. From here he could see both Alana and his company, making it ideal for the current situation. Beorn, the skin-changer, was busy pouring out milk to Thorin's kin, however he was staring relentlessly at the dwarf King, and had been closely watching his interaction with Alana as well.

The behemoth of a man had startled them all greatly with his violent entry into his own home, but, as Gloin and Oin had promised, he had not seemed upset by their presence. Every move he made gave only a mere hint of the power he held in his blood, and thus to see him doing something as mundane as pouring milk was... odd.

"So," the bear-man said at length, "you are the one they call Oakenshield." Thorin inclined his head, still feeling wariness draping itself over him. He was grateful that they were able to take refuge in his home, but the way the skin-changer watched Alana had him constantly on edge. "Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"

Thorin's brows twitched. "You know of Azog? How?"

"My people were the first to live in the mountains," Beorn stated gravely, "before the orcs came down from the north." His eyes hardened with a hidden sorrow that Thorin guessed he himself could relate to, no matter how grudgingly he did so. "The Defiler and the orcs at his call drove my family from our homes; forced us elsewhere. We had little power to fight back, for while we are strong, they were far too numerous. We lost all that we had, and thus we were forced to rebuild our lives from nothing."

An uneasy silence overcame the group, before an unexpected voice sounded. "Azog the Defiler is an insult to every race on this land, including his own." Everyone turned to see Alana stood leaning against a column, although she was resting all her weight on her uninjured leg. Her plate of half-eaten food rested on her left palm, and she continued to pick at it as she spoke. "His ruthlessness is ten times worse than that of any of the rest of his kind."

"And what do you know of him?" Beorn challenged. Thorin shot him a venomous look of warning, but he was ignored.

Alana's response was surprisingly even. "He and around two hundred orcs raided and destroyed my hometown. The Defiler himself murdered my father."

"Then you and I are alike in some ways," Beorn muttered, and Alana hummed her agreement, eyes glazed over with sadness as she no doubt recalled the day of her father's death.

The rest of the company seemed distraught at this news, for while they knew that Azog had slain Arathorn that day, the knowledge that her whole village had been destroyed was new for them.

Thorin, for his part, was honestly shocked that she so easily spoke of that day. She had been near tears when she told him of it all that time ago, sat under the stars outside Bag End. She wondered if she would admit to the company now what she had then – of her heritage and her brother's role in the future of Gondor.

As if responding to his thoughts, Alana met his gaze and gave a small nod. Then, she let out a sigh. "There's something I've been hiding from you," she started slowly. "I only hope you can forgive me for not telling you all sooner..."

"Alana," he warned quietly, flicking his eyes towards the skin-changer. Alana stared at the man for a long time.

"If this is something you do not wish for me to hear, I can go elsewhere," the bear-man offered, though he sounded somewhat displeased at the thought of having to do so.

Alana hummed. "Perhaps, I ought to ask... And yet, you do not strike me as untrustworthy. On the contrary, there's something about you that tells me you can know, that you _should_ know." She bit her lip and glanced at Gandalf, who simply raised an eyebrow at her; a silent acknowledgement that this was her choice, and he would not sway her one way or another. After another moment, Alana met Beorn's piercing gaze again, then nodded. "You may stay," she decided in the end. Her expression shifted to something that – somehow – looked even more serious. "Will you all give me your word that what I say now will not leave these walls?"

There were several nods and murmurs of agreement, and sixteen pairs of eyes were glued to the Ranger as she opened and closed her mouth, no doubt attempting to figure out where to begin.

Eventually she released a long and weary breath. "As you probably all know, there was a battle around three thousand years ago between the dark forces of Mordor, and the elves and men." All of them nodded. "That day, the King of Gondor was slain, leaving his sons, Anárion and Isildur to care for his two kingdoms."

"Gondor and Arnor," Fili piped up, prompting Alana to nod.

"Indeed. After his death, Anárion's family ruled over Gondor, and they did so admirably for two thousand years. But then, roughly nine hundred years ago, the last King disappeared, and the throne of Gondor was passed on to a line of Stewards." She rubbed her forehead. "As for Isildur's line... Well, what do you know of the Kings of Arnor?"

"They were successful for many years," Balin said, rubbing his bearded chin in thought. "Then King Eärendur's death led to the kingdom being split into three. The last of the three realms to house a descendent of the last King of Arnor was Arthedain. But Arthedain was lost many years ago, and the line of Kings was broken."

"No," Alana corrected gently. "It was not. The title of King was abandoned, yes, but that line has continued for generations. Since then, the heirs of Elendil and Isildur taking on the role of Chieftain of the dúnedain instead. They are the rulers of my people. The last Chieftain was Arathorn, son of Arador. He was a great fighter, and a great leader. He was, all in all, a very good man. But he was killed... eight years ago." She inhaled shakily, eyes falling closed. "Arathorn was my father." Her eyes opened again, alight with tears. "My brother, Estel... His true name is Aragorn. Through our blood connection to Elendil, he is heir to the throne of Gondor."

You could have heard a pin drop. The dwarves were staring at her with wide eyes and slack jaws, while Beorn's face was all but emotionless. Alana bit her bottom lip, glancing at Thorin in the corner of her eyes, hoping to draw comfort from him. She found that he was already watching her, a soft curl at the edge of his lips, his stormy eyes all but shining at her. A mental sigh was released. She was worried she'd somehow betrayed them, that they were upset with her for keeping this secret from them, but Thorin's calmness reassured her. She steeled herself and looked back at the company, and then she simply waited.

"Then you are the second-in-line," Fili murmured at last, breaking the silence. Years could have passed for how long it felt, though she knew it could have been no more than thirty seconds. "You're a Princess."

Alana gave a half-shrug. "Technically only once and if Aragorn claims his title."

Thorin found himself smirking. "Do you recall what I told you at Bag End, Alana?"

It took her a moment, but then apparently the memory came back, and she rolled her eyes. "An opinion, nothing more."

"An important opinion, if I do say so myself," he retorted.

Alana sighed heavily. "I wish I could walk right now..." Then a devious glint appeared in her eye. "On second thought... come here."

Baffled, Thorin moved closer. As soon as he was within range, Alana's hand shot out and she attempted to hit him, but his reflexes meant he caught her hand before it could strike him. Alana pouted while everyone else – Thorin included – just laughed.

"It'll take more than that to hit me, Alana," Thorin teased with a smirk.

Alana scowled at him, though the way her lips twitched up at the side ruined her attempt at feigning irritation. "I'm injured – give me some slack!"

"If you recall, I am not exactly unscathed."

Alana's scowl disappeared instantaneously. "You're right," she said. "I'm sorry."

Thorin couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "What did I tell you about worrying about yourself for once?"

Alana half-shrugged. "Easier said than done – I'm used to having to look out for the well-being of others, since I am one of the leaders of my kind."

Thorin's eyebrows rose. "You've never mentioned this before."

"It's never come up," Alana defended with a grin. "All I'm doing for the moment is looking after the group until Aragorn is old enough to take up his position as the Chieftain. After that, I'll probably settle back into the sidelines."

"Do you not want that?"

Alana shot him a sheepish look. "I will miss being able to tell the others what to do, I admit – it is nice, as a woman, to be able to show them that they can't just walk all over me because of my gender, but..." She shook her head. "No, I don't think it'll be too bad. There's a lot of pressure on my shoulders."

"How is it that you are here if you have duties elsewhere?" Beorn asked, drawing all eyes back to him.

Alana smiled. "Thankfully I am not the sole leader of my people – there are others who can take charge in my absence. I have been known to disappear for long periods of time, so they know not to panic." Her face turned thoughtful. "I should probably write a letter to them," she mused aloud. "They'll be wondering where I am by now."

"I have some homing pigeons you can use, if you wish it," Beorn told her.

Flashing him a grateful smile, Alana nodded. "That would be helpful, thank you."

"How long will you stay here?" Beorn queried, eyes darting back towards Thorin.

"As long as it takes for Alana to properly heal," Thorin answered at once.

Alana's head snapped his way fast enough for Thorin to be startled by the movement – and he wasn't the only one. "Thorin," she muttered lowly, "we have a time limit. Don't be late arriving at the mountain for my sake."

"We still have time."

"Winter is not far off," Alana countered stubbornly.

Thorin almost rolled his eyes. "I will not continue on while you are still in danger of getting worse," he told her, far more harshly than intended.

Alana narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes, you will," she replied, equally sharp. "I do not care if doing so means leaving me behind – I'd rather you reclaim your home than wait for me to heal only to have this one chance lost to you." She smiled reassuringly. "I will catch up, if necessary."

Thorin was quiet for a long time. "We will stay here for a week," he decided at last. "Whether or not you accompany us further will be something to discuss at the time."

Alana sighed. "I suppose that's the best I'm going to get from you." Nodding, she agreed. "As you wish."

"You have a time limit?" Beorn asked, once again breaking into their conversation. Thorin alone seemed vexed by this.

"We have until the first day of winter," Alana supplied. "Any later than that and... Well, who knows what will happen?"

"Then you are running out of time, and your enemies are closing in on you."

"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood," Gandalf answered, ignoring the unhappy looks from each and every member of the company (except Bilbo, who knew little of the forest beyond where it could be found on a map).

Beorn's face adopted a sombre expression. "A strange darkness lies upon that forest, and fell things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the orcs of Moria and the Necromancer of Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in greatest need."

"We will take the elven road," Gandalf said with a grim smile. "That path is still safe."

"Safe?" Beorn queried. He snorted. "The wood elves are not like their kin; they are less wise, and more dangerous. But it matters not."

"What do you mean?" Thorin questioned, eyes narrowing.

Beorn grunted. "These lands are swarming with orcs," he told them. "Their numbers grow with each rise and fall of the sun, and you are on foot. You will not reach the forest alive."

"We have no choice," Alana said with determination. "If it comes to it, we will fight for what we are seeking."

Beorn raised an eyebrow for her. "You strike me as a strange child," he said at length. "Not yet fully aware of the perils of the world, yet wiser than your years would usually suggest."

"The dúnedain don't live regular lives," Alana informed him. "We are all very knowledgeable in the ways of the world by the time we come of age."

"That is apparent," the skin-changer muttered, giving her a toothy grin that Thorin couldn't help but frown to himself at. In the corner of his eye, Thorin watched as Beorn's face then flattened. "I do not like dwarves," he muttered, and Thorin's head snapped his way, a stony stare in his grey eyes. "And not much more do I like men," he added with a glance at the suddenly impassive Ranger. "But there are few races I hate more than orcs. I will offer you my aid when the time comes for you to continue. Until then, you are welcome under my roof."

Many of the dwarves bowed, expressing their gratitude and offering up their services. While Beorn did not accept them, stating he was not in need of any help, he nonetheless seemed to appreciate the words of thanks. It wasn't long before he dismissed himself however, and left the house through the large front doors.

There was a moment of silence that followed the large man's disappearance, during which Gandalf also slipped out into the sunlight.

"I'm thinking..." Alana began, drawing all eyes her way. Her lips twitched, and Thorin knew she was fighting a smile. "Another tournament would be a good idea."

And they all agreed.

* * *

 

Alana was a little upset she was not in a fit enough state to participate in the tournament, although she didn't mind being the overseer. Bilbo was the only one to voluntarily opt of the tournament, but he still trained away from the rest. Every now and then Alana would pipe up and give him a piece of advice about footwork, stance or swing – whatever it was that needed adjusting.

With the space available to them being smaller than at Rivendell, they could only fight two pairs at a time, so the tournament lasted much longer. Unsurprisingly, the remaining competitors for the final battle were Thorin, Dwalin and Fili. All around her the dwarves were making bets on who would win (most said their esteemed King) but Alana was too busy watching to participate. As an outside spectator, she noticed things that she might not have done had she been there fighting.

Like the fact Dwalin tended to put more weight on his right foot, thus compromising his ability to retaliate when forced to lean to the left.

Or the fact Fili moved with parallel feet, making him an easy target to knock.

Or the fact that Thorin was looking far too handsome for his own good. His black hair was haloed with gold, and the silver streaks seemed to glow in the morning sunlight. They had all shed layers as the tournament progressed, and now he stood in his boots, breeches, and a dark blue tunic with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong arms and the dark hair that grew on the top. Each move he made was precise and confident and strong, and Alana could find no flaw in his technique.

 _Damn_.

She was trying to stop this nagging _feeling_ of hers, the one she had not yet found a name for, and yet she couldn't help but ogle him while he moved with an unusual amount of grace for a dwarf.

While she was largely ignored, one particular member of the company noticed her lingering glances and blatant stares.

Kili couldn't quite understand how the two were so completely oblivious to one another's affections, nor why they both continued to pretend nothing was going on. It was getting to the point where the rest of the company had taken bets on how long it would take for them to finally stop holding back and begin courting. Kili was determined to ensure that his bet that it would be before they left for Mirkwood would not be a waste of his gold.

The young dwarf sat himself down beside her, offering a bright grin when she turned her head towards him and smiled. "How's your leg?" he asked her.

"Itchy," she admitted. "But not overly painful at the moment, thank you." Her eyes flickered back to the battle as Dwalin was knocked on his back by Fili. From his position by Alana's side, Kili whooped and cheered for his brother, who flashed him a quick grin as Dwalin stalked off the 'battlefield'.

"Come on, Fee!" Kili called.

"Shush," Alana chastised. "You'll distract him."

"Just showing my support," Kili muttered with a pout.

Alana rolled her eyes fondly and gently ruffled his hair. "He knows he has it without you needing to tell him."

"It doesn't hurt to say it aloud every now and then," Kili retorted.

Smiling, Alana nodded. "That's true." She pursed her lips as memories of Aragorn hit her, and her heart panged with longing. Her despairing mood disappeared quickly, though. Thorin had managed to get behind Fili and had one arm around the blonde's stomach, the other steadily holding his sword up to Fili's throat. Both were breathing heavily, but there was a lack of tension in their shoulders.

Alana laughed as Kili scrambled to his feet and swiftly made his way towards his uncle and brother, babbling incoherently when he reached them. Over Fili's shoulder, Alana met Thorin's eyes, seeing the amusement dancing in them, and she flashed him a grin and a wink.

She almost jumped out of her skin when Balin settled himself beside her, seemingly appearing from nowhere. "You seem very happy," he noted.

Alana shrugged. "Why shouldn't I be? My injuries are healing, we are safe for now, and we are all getting the rest and enjoyment we deserve."

Balin smiled. "Many would find something to dampen the mood."

"I'm unusual," came the simple response.

Chuckling, Balin bobbed his head in agreement. "I can't argue you with you there," said he. "One of a kind, I would wager."

Alana grinned. "Give it ten years and I'll have a full-grown brother to be exactly the same as I am now."

"I look forward to meeting him when he is grown," Balin mused. "I am sure he will be a strong and honourable man. Doubly so if he turns out anything like you."

Alana rubbed the back of her neck, cheeks warm. "Thanks...?"

Balin's good mood wavered slightly. "I have something I must ask you, if I may."

Alana's eyebrows rose. "Of course."

Balin sighed. "It is a delicate subject, so I hope you won't hold it against me in future, but... I must ask... What are your intentions towards Thorin?"

Alana reeled back in hurt and shock. "You make it sound like I have some sort of ulterior motive here, Balin. I... I'm actually a little insulted."

Old Balin winced. "Sorry, lass. But as Thorin's personal advisor, I can never be too careful. You may have been accepted by us, but to the rest of our kind you are still an outsider. I am not blind to your feelings towards the lad," Alana's cheeks burned hot and Balin hid a knowing smile, "but I have to ensure your intentions are innocent."

"In all honesty, Balin, I have no intention of pursuing my feelings towards Thorin." Alana let out a sorrowful sound and bit her lip. "Nothing could ever come of it except pain. The Seven Kingdoms will never accept a non-dwarf as part of the royal family – not that I think myself a part of it! – but I figured it would be easier if I just remained 'outside help'."

Balin shook his head. "No, lass, that's not a good idea. Ignoring something as potent as love will do you no good; you would simply be causing yourself unnecessary pain and discomfort. Do not hide yourself from him, but I only ask you are very careful. One wrong move is enough, in some opinions, to make you unworthy. And as much as this company will have the respect of many dwarves for simply being a part of this journey, I doubt being vouched for by thirteen will be enough."

Alana rubbed her hands over her face. "I'm sensing you're telling me both 'yes' and 'no' here," she grumbled. "I thought that was something done only by the elves."

Balin gave a little huff of laughter. "I am trying not to affect your decision in any way," he said, serious again. "By giving you facts from both sides of the table, it will allow you to look at things objectively. Just keep it in mind that a short time of happiness only to be suddenly ended is better than a long time of wondering whether or not it would have worked. Those happy days will provide you with good memories for the rest of your life."

Alana nodded slowly. "Very well," she said at length, "I will think on it. But do not expect a miracle. I have more than just the dwarves to consider – I have my own people and family who rely on me. Not to mention I don't even understand what this feeling really is. It's all so new for me."

"I understand, lass. I'll leave you alone to your thoughts." With that, he stood and went back to join his kin. As Alana stared blankly ahead of her, she began to think deeply about all the old dwarf had told her.


	17. Revelations

"Am I interrupting?"

Alana jumped as the voice broke her from her musing. She looked up to find Thorin standing beside her, a slightly amused expression on his face from her reaction. Shaking her head, Alana told him, "No, not at all. I was just lost in thought."

Thorin chuckled. "Funnily enough," he told her, "I could tell. May I join you?"

For the first time in a long time, Alana hesitated. Balin's words were bouncing off her skull, circling around her head and driving her close to insane, but they held merit. If she pursued her feelings for Thorin, chances were the vast majority of his people would refuse to allow her to continue their courtship once it had started ( _if_ it started). But if she was being honest with herself, Alana knew that she'd want to argue her case until her last breath, to prove herself worthy of being with Thorin – provided he accepted her, of course. Balin's words gave her hope that this feeling was reciprocated, but she could just as easily have been misinterpreting things, or seeing things that simply weren't there.

"Alana?"

Then again, Alana was never one to shy away from a challenge, and a relationship with Thorin certainly _would_ be a challenge. It would introduce her to a part of life that she had never encountered before, and there were not many of those left. And Alana knew, no matter how this ended up, she would regret doing nothing for the rest of her life.

"Alana!"

Once more, the Ranger jumped, seeing Thorin crouched down in front of her, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

She sent him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I drifted again. Yes, you may sit with me."

"Might I inquire as to what holds your thoughts so intently?"

Alana was quick in responding with the first fail-safe she had. "My family." Thorin nodded, apparently satisfied with her lie, and then he moved to sit beside her. He sat in a relaxed position, one arm resting on top of one knee, the other arm supporting his body, and the other leg resting on the ground.

He tilted his head towards her. "Are you worried for them?"

"I am always worried for them," Alana admitted, firmly pushing her previous thoughts to the back of her mind – to be further conserved later. "But now I fear even more for them. It is not often I venture this far from where they are staying. The distance... troubles me, at times." She smiled wryly. "As much as she argues to the contrary, my mother cannot handle a sword well. And she is Estel's last defence. I fear for them both, even though I know I have no need to. They are well protected in Rivendell, and the elves in that place would no doubt lay down their lives for them. And yet, that knowledge doesn't comfort me as much as I wish it would."

"We will always feel concern for our family," Thorin pointed out softly. "I worry for my sister sometimes, even though I know she, likewise, has many hundreds of well-trained warriors and the thick walls of the mountains to protect her, not to mention her own skills with a blade. Whenever we can't see our family, we always want to assume the worst is happening, and we have no power to stop it."

"You at least have your nephews here," Alana said with a grin. "You can keep them out of trouble."

"Those boys go _looking_ for trouble," the dwarf King grumbled. "Keeping them away from it is an impossible task, even for their mother. Dís has a will of steel, but they are too much even for her to handle sometimes."

"I heard that!" Kili called, indignant, and Alana and Thorin both laughed at the childish pout on his face, though there was a twinkle of mirth in his brown eyes. He sent his uncle a wink when Alana wasn't looking, before turning back to continue talking to his brother.

Thorin's face turned serious as he shifted his attention back to the Ranger by his side. "You told the skin-changer your secret. Why?"

"There's just something about him," she admitted softly, a crease forming between her brows. "I don't know what it is, or why, but when I saw him I didn't think of him as a threat against my brother and I, but rather a friend and ally. It makes no sense – I have never met him before, and I have only been so quick to trust once before – but I can't bring myself to regret my decision."

"And yet you still hesitated to tell him who you were."

Alana smiled grimly. "Some habits are difficult to look past. For so long I've kept this secret hidden from strangers – telling someone I have never met before is... difficult. If you recall, I had the same trouble when telling you."

"I gave you little reason to trust me when we first met," Thorin reminded her with a twitch of his lips.

"But you are a King, and I know I can trust a King's word."

"I am not a King."

Alana chuckled and shook her head. "It's not a crown that makes a King, Thorin, or a kingdom, really," she said. "Any old fool can put a crown on his head a call himself a King, or sit on a chair he claims is a throne and declare that the land around it is his. No, a King is someone who takes all that he is and uses it to make the world better than what it was to start with. The ultimate measure of a man – a dwarf, in your case – is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but rather what he does when in times of chaos and controversy. In all your years of pain, and loss, and strife, you never once gave in. You kept going for the benefit of those who could neither look after themselves nor other people. And that is _not_ something any old fool can achieve – _that_ is what makes a King."

Thorin was quiet for a long time, and Alana began to worry she had crossed some kind of line, but then he spoke in a voice that was soft and tender. "You so adamantly say that I am a leader, yet when I do the same you refuse to believe it. Every quality you say makes me a King you possess in great amounts, yet you refuse to accept your heritage. Why do you continue to doubt yourself?"

"You were a Prince once, living in vast halls with people who loved you and love you still. I was born in exile, was forced from my village at seventeen, and then only regrouped with my people four years ago. I never got the chance to lead as you did – I am just a Steward; someone to keep the throne warm while the heir grows. Even Aragorn's status is questionable, and will continue to be so until he accepts his bloodline and takes up the throne of Gondor. And that could take anything between ten years and... well, until he dies, I guess." Alana looked down at her hands, which were shaking slightly. "I don't feel like I'm good enough, Thorin," she admitted. "Good enough for you and your company, good enough for the dúnedain, good enough to be royalty. I feel... inadequate. Like no matter what I do there'll always be doubt and scorn thrown at me. The dúnedain are feared by the men of the west, shunned and belittled, yet they judge what they do not understand. Every insult I hear of us makes me think I am failing my people somehow."

Thorin rolled his eyes. "Was it not you who just said you don't need a crown to be royalty?" he challenged. "You may not have your throne, Alana, but you _are_ a leader. You look after your people even though you have no real need to – they can look after themselves well enough. But you feel it's your responsibility, so you bear that weight willingly. Don't put yourself down."

Alana stared at her hands again, noticing the shaking had stopped, but still she felt the urge to wring them in front of her. "I just feel useless all the time. I'm not even with my people now!"

"But you are helping mine," he said quietly, and Alana smiled slightly. "Not out of duty or obligation, but from the kindness of your heart. I can never properly thank you for what you are sacrificing to help us."

"The only thing I am sacrificing is time," she murmured. "I would not change a thing if I were given the same choice again."

"Time is still precious," Thorin argued softly. "Time with us is time away from your family. I know well that, sometimes, it is a difficult thing to cope with. Your family is what makes your home more than just the place you live."

Alana glanced at him in the corner of her eye, her lips curling up at the sides. "Are you trying to get rid of me, my Lord?" Her tone was light-hearted and teasing, and Thorin huffed, rolling his eyes again and shaking his head. Alana smirked at him, then let it soften into a warm look that spoke leagues more than anything she could have thought to say out loud. She was thoughtful for a moment, before she asked tentatively, "Will you tell me about your sister?"

Thorin was surprised by her question, but when he saw the curious twinkle in her eyes, he couldn't bring himself to deny her. "What would you like to know?"

Alana beamed at him. "Anything you are willing to share," she replied immediately. "From what little I can figure out for myself, I am certain she is a force to be reckoned with. She'd have to be, since she raised two of the most reckless and trouble-seeking dwarves in history."

"We can still hear you!" Fili shouted over to them, both he and his brother wearing dramatically unimpressed looks. Thorin and Alana looked over at the brothers and then, in unison, cocked their heads to the side and arched their eyebrows, as if to say 'you know it's true'. The Durin brothers froze and glanced each other, both equally disturbed by the fact they were seeing the same expression on different faces, before silently agreeing to move away from the two.

Thorin let a low laugh rumble up his chest, before turning back to Alana. "I am very adamantly of the belief that my sister would be able to scare a dragon into submission if she wanted to," Thorin told her, and Alana grinned in amusement. "Normally she is a very rational woman, but when she loses her temper... There is nothing else quite like it. She certainly puts me to shame."

Alana chuckled. "I think I like her already," she muttered teasingly, nudging Thorin lightly with her elbow. Thorin gave her a mock-stony look, but then his face broke out into an unstoppable smile.

"You two would get along extraordinarily well, I am sure," he mused. "And when together... Truly, I believe there would be no challenge too great for you." He smiled fondly. "I think Dís wanted to come with us, and no one would have been able to stop her had she decided that was to be her course, but the Blue Mountains need someone to rule over the people. With Fili, Kili and myself out here, she is the only one left to rule in our absence, and I think she understood that. Still, part of me wishes she had come with us, despite all the dangers. Erebor is as much her kingdom as it is mine, though she does not remember it well. She was your brother's age when the dragon came. My brother, Frerin, managed to grab her during the attack, and the two escaped through one of Erebor's secret passages." He let out a sad sigh. "I miss her," he admitted. "I miss them both."

"I didn't know you had a brother," Alana whispered, sensing his sorrow.

Thorin lowered his head, his hair slipping over his shoulders and hiding his face from her scrutiny. "He died in the Battle of Azanulbizar, along with my grandfather." His voice was tinged with heartbreak, yet at the same time had a peculiar detachment to it.

Alana let out a soft sound of sympathy, then did something that surprised them both. She placed her hand over his, laced their fingers together, and then leant her head on his shoulder. Thorin felt himself immediately stiffen, purely out of shock, but then relaxed and allowed himself to accept the wordless comfort she offered him. His head slowly came to rest against her own. For a long time the two simply sat together in this way, eyes staring forward at the beautiful landscape before them and secretly relishing in the intimacy of their position.

* * *

 

Though Alana insisted many times that she was fine, Thorin still ordered that Oin check over her wounds every few hours to ensure they didn't suddenly start showing signs of infection. Every complaint that escaped her lips was met with a firm stare, and as stubborn as she was, they both knew that Thorin would not be swayed. After the fourth check-up, Alana finally relented and allowed the healer to poke and prod at her without protesting.

The second day proved to be much like the first – with the dwarves spending most of the daylight hours training in Beorn's sizeable garden. Alana spent a good few hours of that time lost in thought, mulling over Balin's words. All the points he had made were perfectly sensible, and there was enough to consider that Alana couldn't decide whether pursuing Thorin in this new manner was a good idea or not. She couldn't deny that her heart longed for the dwarf in a way she had never known a heart could, but equally she knew she had duties towards her brother and the dúnedain that could not go ignored. If she were to start courting him, it would mean she had intentions of one day marrying him, which meant she was most likely going to be expected to take up the role of Queen once they'd retaken Erebor. Or even if they didn't claim the mountain back, for that matter, because Thorin's birthright was undeniable no matter where he lived. Being a ruling monarch in a faraway land meant she would have to sacrifice much of the time she would ordinarily have been spending with her people. She would be expected to remain with Thorin, ruling alongside him throughout it all. They would both have to lay down their swords for the most part, would have to leave behind their lives as warriors, and instead take on an entirely different battlefield. Though she hoped that Aragorn would one day do the same, it was never a path she had thought to claim for herself.

Letting out a weak groan, Alana decided to leave the issue alone for now. She pushed herself to her feet and hobbled inside Beorn's house, grabbing her pack and a few rolls of bandages, tucking them under her arm and then limping out again. The large bear-man had pointed out a pool that he had kept for bathing in. No one had yet used it, but Alana thought now – while everyone was distracted – would be the best time to wash. 

The pool was large, though Alana supposed that it would have to be to suit a man of Beorn's enormous size. The water in the pool was clear and colourless, making Alana wonder if the skin-changer had to empty it and refill it to ensure it stayed so clean, or if there was a system in place that made it so the water replaced itself. She could see no streams leading into or out of the pool, but that didn't necessarily mean that they weren't there. 

Pushing these musings to the back of her mind, Alana made quick work of stripping down, though she winced whenever she had to stretch beyond her knees or above her shoulders.

Once bare, she carefully peeled her bandages off of her torso and her foot, bundling them up into a haphazard pile and then dropping them on the floor beside the new bandages.

Alana stepped hesitantly towards the bathing pool, the first touch of the cool water sending a pleasant shiver down her spine, and then slowly waded towards the centre. She was unsurprised to learn it was deeper than she was tall, and while she would normally be unbothered by this, her wounds meant she might strain herself too much while swimming. With this thought in mind, she stayed in the shallower waters. 

Alana was careful and took her time as she washed herself from head to toe, making sure not to put too much pressure on her healing injuries. Her hair was a tangled mess and, unfortunately for her, required more work than she could deal with. Every time she brought her hands above her shoulders her entire back would twinge and sting. With a resigned sigh, Alana gave up on her hair and waded out of the water just enough to reach her dirty clothes. She placed the clothes in the pool, leaving them for a few seconds to allow the loose dirt to ease away, before she started kneading the material with her hands. She frowned to herself as the pool water grew gradually darker, hoping Beorn wouldn't mind too much.

When the last of her clothes had been washed as thoroughly as was possible without soap, Alana dug through her pack and pulled out some spare garments. It wasn't enough for travelling by any means, but would be sufficient until her usual attire had dried. Placing the clothes beside her, Alana pulled a spare dagger out of her bag next and used it to cut appropriate lengths of bandages, before she carefully covered her wound again. With that done, Alana tugged on her spare breeches and shirt. She bit her lip when she noticed there was a tear in the neckline of the shirt, which now dipped a little too low for comfort. Still, with no other options on hand, she decided it would have to do. With bare feet and her long hair soaking the material of her shirt, Alana picked up her things and headed back towards Beorn's house.

When she returned, the dwarves were still training, though she had to marvel at how relaxed they were as they did so. Fili and Kili had actually thrown their weapons aside and were playfully tussling on the grass, one of them laughing victoriously whenever he managed to get the upper hand over the other, only to be quickly brought down again in his distraction. It seemed to be an endless cycle, but they looked like they were enjoying themselves.

Alana was directed by Beorn to hang her clothes on a wooden structure outside the building, which already was bearing a few drying blankets.

Upon returning to the group, she was surprised to see that Thorin had been dragged onto the ground by his nephews, and while he wasn't joining in with their childish play-fighting, he remained on his back and watched with a tender gleam to his eyes, laughing and smiling at them. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that these two were young by the standards of the dwarves. They were skilled warriors and, ignoring their few more mischievous exploits, were very mature. Growing up as the heirs of the line of Durin would perhaps have had an effect on the nature of their upbringing, but Alana was nonetheless glad to see they were able to act their age from time to time.

As Alana watched, Thorin finally allowed himself to be dragged into the scuffle. It was as he wrestled with his nephews, letting go of everything he was – his title, his responsibilities, his burdens – and simply enjoying the time spent with his family, that she was struck by an epiphany. 

Mahal's beard, she  _loved_  him.

That mysterious tugging at her heart, the warmth in her chest that would so often spread to every inch of her person... Suddenly it all made sense. At some point she had fallen head over heels for him, and without knowing what it was, she had been unable to stop it.

But why would she want to?

Her throat tightened and her face wavered. She truly loved him. She loved him more than life itself.

How in Eru's name could she ever be expected to let him go?

It was in that moment that she was finally able to choose her path. The moment she did, it was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and her entire being felt lighter. She knew there would always be things she would worry about, and she would always wonder what it would have been like had she chosen differently, but she knew in her heart that she had made the right choice.

Alana smiled fondly and got to her feet when Fili and Kili chose that moment to tackle their uncle to the ground, catching him by surprise and then making him guffaw loudly. The Ranger came to a stop beside the happy group, her hands planted on her hips and a firm expression on her face that was incredibly difficult for her to maintain. "Now, now," she chastised, "it's not fair to team up on your uncle, don't you think?"

Kili, who was draped across Thorin's legs on his back and seemed quite content there, glanced up at her, arching an eyebrow. "He's used to it," he muttered dismissively.

"Perhaps," she allowed, finally allowing a cheeky grin to spread across her lips. "But you two are no longer little dwarflings, and I expect he is not quite as spry as he used to be." The three Durins stared at her owlishly for a few seconds, before the brothers burst into laughter and Thorin narrowed his eyes at her. She winked at him, showing she meant no real offence, and with a soft huff he nodded, wordlessly forgiving her. Alana quickly nudged Fili's leg with her foot. "Now, up. Both of you."

Kili groaned, muttering under his breath in khuzdul. Whatever he said made Thorin chuckle, and Fili freeze. The blonde glanced at Thorin, then Alana, before turning to his brother and asking a question, still in the dwarves' secret language. Whatever response Kili had planned on giving was interrupted by a few choice words from Thorin, along with a small grin and an arched eyebrow, and suddenly the two dwarf Princes were scuttling to their feet and all but sprinting towards Beorn's house.

Alana blinked. "What... just happened?"

Thorin smirked at her, sitting up and then settling his body into a relaxed position. Alana hesitated, but then sat beside him when he gave a slight incline of his head as an invitation for her to do so. "Kili noted that you sounded like their mother for a moment there," he told her. "It is not the first time I have noticed it, though I think perhaps that might have been the case for them."

Alana tilted her head to the side. "And what did you and Fili say in return?"

With a knowing smile, Thorin replied, "That, my lady, is a secret."

Alana's jaw fell, and in the back of her mind she wondered if she'd taken on the appearance of a fish out of water. "No," she grumbled sternly, only to cave slightly. "Oh, come on, Thorin, that's just cruel!"

Thorin chuckled. "You will learn in time, **_atamanel._** "

Alana huffed. "And when I do, will you tell me what you just called me?"

An amused smile flickered onto his lips before he could stop it. "Perhaps." Letting out a frustrated groan, Alana flopped onto her back. She then immediately regretted it, releasing a whine of discomfort when her back wounds throbbed. Thorin clearly noticed the sound, because he was quickly on his feet and offering her a hand. "Come," he instructed gently, pulling Alana to her feet when she slid her hand into his. "Let's have Oin look at you."

She huffed. "I literally _just_ changed the bandages, Thorin!"

The dwarf glanced back at her, a serious gleam to his eyes now, the light-hearted mood somewhat diminished. "I know this frustrates you, Alana, but it is necessary if you plan to join us when we leave. I do not wish to see you continue on while still injured."

Sighing, Alana nodded. "Fine, you stubborn dwarf. But I'm going to be keeping this all locked up in my mind so that, one day, if you get yourself severely injured, I'm allowed to command Oin to mother you, too."

Thorin let out another chortle, a grin stretching over his face. "As you wish, my Lady. If that be the case, I shan't complain."

"Well, sure, you say that _now_..." she muttered, and the two shared a quiet moment of soft laughter before falling into silence as they continued to head towards their temporary safe haven.


	18. A Run-In With Wolves

The sight before her definitely wasn't one she expected. She and Thorin entered Beorn's house to find the rest of the company huddled close together, murmuring in low voices. It was obviously some sort of private conversation, though they weren't exactly being subtle about it. The only thing that kept it safe from her ears was the fact they had fallen upon their own language.

Alana huffed. "Do you think if I started talking in elvish, your company would find it equally as annoying as when they talk in khuzdul?"

Chuckling, Thorin inclined his head. "Yes, I think they might. Though I must admit, I didn't expect you to be one to fall upon petty revenge."

Alana snorted. "You have younger family members, Thorin. Tell me honestly, do you think you would have come out in half as good a state had petty revenge not come into play?"

Thorin eyed her for a moment, then shook his head. "Nay, I do not."

"Exactly."

Alana watched the group for a moment, before a smirk flickered onto her face, and after sending the suddenly perplexed dwarf King a quick wink, she silently slipped out of sight around the corner. Thorin didn't see her again for several seconds, before his eyes suddenly widened when he noticed she was scaling one of the wooden columns supporting Beorn's house. He frowned when he noticed her set jaw and white knuckles – she was clearly in pain, yet still persisted right to the top of the column. She then perched herself on one of the wooden beams stretching across the room, almost directly above the heads of the rest of his company. With her hands placed firmly on the wood, Alana leaned over and then asked, quite loudly, "So what are we all talking about?"

The dwarves startled loudly, a few unable to find the source of her voice for a second, before eventually all their eyes turned upward. "You gave us a good fright there, lassie," Bofur grumbled good-naturedly, rubbing his chest as if to calm down a frantic heart.

Alana scoffed lightly. "Well, if you didn't wish to be snuck up on, then perhaps it would be prudent for you _not_ to have blatantly secret conversations where I can see you."

"Who said anything about it being secret?" Fili challenged.

Alana chuckled. "No one," she admitted. "But why else would you be using khuzdul?" She smirked at him, then said, " _Cormlle naa tanya tel'ra._ "

Fili blinked at her, glanced at the confused faces around him, and then looked back up at her. "I don't know what you just said."

"I know. Annoying, isn't it?"

"She probably told you to go kiss an orc," Kili teased.

Alana snorted. "No, that would be ' _auta miqula orqu_ '."

"Well, she definitely didn't say that," Bofur muttered, nodding. He glanced around. "Does _anyone_ know what she said?"

Thorin stepped forward and, ignoring the sharp look Alana sent him, he announced, "She told Fili he had the heart of a lion."

Fili reeled back in shock. "Really?"

Sighing, Alana nodded. "I did. Something I was hoping you _wouldn't_ translate," she sniped at Thorin, who merely arched an eyebrow. Alana huffed. " _Amin delotha lle. (I hate you.)_ "

"No, you don't," he retorted easily, chuckling again when she let out a frustrated groan.

"Uncle, you know elvish?" Kili queried in surprise, his face mirroring those of his companions.

Thorin nodded. "Aye, that I do, though I understand it better than I speak it. It is a little known fact, but my father had me learn when I was very young, so I would be able to hear what was not meant for my ears."

"And despite the fact he claims to know very little, I have yet to see him fail to understand anything I've said," Alana grumbled, swinging off of the beam and landing shakily on her uninjured foot. She used Fili's shoulder to stop herself from losing her balance, then shot him an apologetic look, to which he just shrugged.

Thorin let his lips twitch upward again, before turning to their healer. "Oin, would you look over Alana's wounds again?"

The old dwarf nodded without complaint, though Alana let out a hugely exaggerated sigh to express her displeasure. Still, she followed the old dwarf out of the room without another word needing to be said. Thorin turned to his kin. "Have you come to a decision?" he asked.

"That we have," Kili informed him with a grin. "And every one of us has agreed it is an excellent idea, and wholeheartedly wish to take part."

Thorin raised his eyebrows. "All of you? I will admit, I did not expect that. At least not without some convincing."

"Well, it's true, lad," Balin said with a shake of his head. "There are no disagreements here."

Thorin nodded, smiling softly. "Then we shall do it the same day that we leave this place." After a few murmurs of agreement, the dwarves wandered off, some to head back outside, others to further explore Beorn's home.

Thorin found himself heading towards the area that Oin had claimed as his own, where he had taken Alana to look at her wounds. He was just rewrapping Alana's foot when Thorin stepped into their vicinity. Oin glanced up at him and smiled. "She's taken well to the herbs I've given her to speed up the process," he reported, walking towards his King. "She should be fit to travel in no more than a week, though I will advise that she still exercise caution on the road."

Thorin nodded, patting him on the shoulder. "Thank you, my friend."

Oin gave a small smile, then with a parting glance at his charge, left Thorin and Alana alone once more.

Alana smiled at him, apparently having long since forgiven him for his – to use her word – 'mothering', and his interruption of her fun not five minutes ago. "I appreciate your concern," she began as he sat himself opposite her, "but surely you must have better things to do than keep such a close eye on me."

Thorin chuckled. "Would it ease your mind to know that I enjoy your company, and therefore do not mind in the slightest?"

Alana shrugged with one shoulder. "A little, I suppose. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy your company too, I just... I feel like there are more important things than me to consider."

"Alana," he began fiercely, and she blinked at him in surprise, "do not let me hear you say anything like that again. Your health is one of my top priorities."

She frowned. "And what about regaining your home?"

"We have already agreed to stay here for another five days," he reminded her. "We will not need long to prepare for the rest of our journey. Besides, there is not that much to do around here besides train. It is too great a risk to leave Beorn's property with all the orcs on our tail."

Pausing to consider for a moment, Alana eventually relented. "I suppose you're right." She then frowned again. "Have you seen much of Beorn today?"

"No, he left early this morning," Thorin told her. "He woke me as he did so, though he disappeared before I could ask where he was going."

"I suppose, seeing as the orcs fear him, he has more freedom than we do."

Thorin frowned at the thought, and then before he could stop himself, he asked her, "Did I make a mistake in deciding to return to Erebor?"

Alana blinked a few times, her mouth falling open and shutting as she tried to come up with a response, but she seemed too shocked by his question to even _think_ properly. "Wha–? I don't– What?!" She blinked several times again, in no more than few seconds. "Am I hearing things? Did you seriously just ask me that?" Alana seemed so genuinely lost that Thorin felt guilt stir in his stomach for causing it.

"I did."

Alana gaped at him for a good few seconds, before finally managing to get a hold of herself and calm down. "Thorin," she said at last, slowly and clearly, as if she didn't want him to miss even a single letter of what she was about to say. "This quest sounds impossible, it is utterly fraught with danger and that we have gotten this far alive after everything we've faced is a miracle. But to call it a mistake? That's insanity."

"Why?"

Alana frowned at the look on his face. She couldn't quite describe it, but it was somewhere stuck between tormented and pleading. "Because there are twelve dwarves out there, and one hobbit, and me as well, who willingly follow you on this quest. For many it is to return to a home they lost many years ago, for others it is perhaps less personal, but that doesn't make it any less important. Erebor needs to be taken back, Thorin. You were the one brave enough to take the first step, and those dwarves out there fell into place behind you, so they might help you do this. If it was a mistake you would be alone, but you are not. You've even gained the support of a wizard! To paraphrase Fili; we may be few in number, but we are fighters, and you have given us something to fight for."

Thorin stared at her for a long time, relief washing over his face for a brief moment before being replaced by something else. Alana couldn't quite name it, though she knew she had seen it before. She could feel its potency as those stormy eyes of his scanned over her face, before Thorin swallowed thickly. "Alana, there's something I need to tell you." Alana's eyebrows raked up when he paused, mouth hovering open, as if trying to figure out the right words for what he was about to say. For some reason beyond her comprehension, Alana's heart thumped heavily in her chest. "I–"

"Thorin!" Fili's frantic cry interrupted whatever Thorin was going to tell her, and Alana found herself feeling inexplicably disappointed, though she kept it hidden from her face. Thorin sent his nephew a questioning look, though there was an air of annoyance about him for a moment. Fili's worried face quickly had both he and Alana sitting up a bit straighter. "Kili's missing."

In a flash, the two were on their feet. Any protests to her getting up were quickly silenced by a sharp look, before Alana addressed the young Prince. "Where did you last see him?"

"Outside, just in the garden. He was counting his arrows, I think."

Alana paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow. "Was he?" Her tone of voice caught the attentions of both dwarves, but before other of them could ask what she was thinking the Ranger had headed out the door. She strolled straight past the other searching dwarves who occasionally called Kili's name, only to receive no reply. Alana came to a stop in the entrance of Beorn's property, eyes scanning the nearby tree line.

"He wouldn't go out there, would he?" Fili asked, stopping beside her.

"I don't think I know your brother as well as you do," she murmured. "But I know him well enough to know impulsive he can be. So what do you think?"

Fili stared at her for a while, before sighing. "Yeah, he would."

Nodding, Alana turned back towards the house and jogged inside, stopping to pick up her sword and bow, before she slung her quiver over her shoulder. She buckled her belt around her waist with expert hands and then left again, not even glancing at the rest of the company as she left Beorn's high walls, eyes scanning the ground for any sign of disturbance. It took a few seconds before she found the indentation of a heavy foot in the grass, and saw it did indeed seem to be heading towards the forest.

Alana picked up her pace a little, head still bowed towards the ground, following the trail the youngest Durin had left behind. It wasn't long before she entered the trees, feet navigating the new terrain with experienced ease.

She froze, eyes fixed on the floor.

Kili's prints were still clear and deep, but there was a second set interweaving with his. Paw prints, of something large and heavy, if she had to guess. 

Hissing out a curse, Alana notched an arrow to her bow as she increased her pace even more. Her eyes whipped up at the sound of a startled yelp, one she knew with no inch of doubt belonged to the dwarf she was searching for. Leaving no thought for her injured foot, Alana quickly lurched into a sprint, weaving her way between and around the trees. She put her bow away and pulled out her sword instead, and within seconds she heard a commotion. Alana kept running, heart in mouth, before she sprung into the small clearing where Kili was facing down a pack of wolves. Two already lay at his feet, but the remaining four were slowly circling him, and she knew he'd never be able to defeat them alone without getting at least seriously injured.

Her arrival caused the wolves to swivel their heads her way, giving both her and Kili the chance to strike. While Kili fought his own opponent, Alana swung her sword at the closest wolf, which quickly jumped out of the way, before growling and leaping at her. She ducked, simultaneously arching her sword up and slicing the wolf cleanly through the underside of its body. Another of the beasts lunged, but she rolled away and swung. The wolf skittered back, growling and snarling.

A yell drew her attention back to Kili, and she realised he'd been knocked onto his back. Her moment of distraction meant her own enemy could pounce at her, and she only just managed to avoid having her arm torn into by its teeth. Alana jerked her sword back, messily slicing through the wolf's throat, before putting her sword away and quickly drawing both bow and arrow. Kili was struggling furiously against the weight and force of the wolf now snapping at his face, the beast's front paws planted on Kili's chest and keeping him pinned. Alana held her breath, prepared herself, and then swiftly lifted the bow, pulled back the arrow, and let it fly. A grunt of pain escaped her lips as her entire torso flared at the sudden movement, but she didn't care, instead watching the arrow sail through the air and slice cleanly through the wolf's head. It let out a whine, slumping forward onto Kili. She threw her bow on the ground, rushing forward to help the dwarf lift the wolf's body off of him, before roughly pulling him to his feet.

"What in Eru's name were you _thinking_?!" she snarled, grabbing hold of Kili's shoulders and forcing him to meet her eyes. "Do you have any idea how worried your brother was when he couldn't find you? How worried we _all_ were?"

Kili lowered his eyes sheepishly, toeing the ground and looking very much like a child who'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "I was just going out to hunt," he mumbled. "I didn't think I'd need to tell anyone."

Letting out a sigh, Alana surprised the dwarf by tugging him into a hug, tilting her head down to lean against the top of his. Kili didn't wait long to return the embrace, though he was clearly still somewhat caught off guard by it. "Don't you dare scare me like that again," she whispered into his hair, smiling to herself when he held her a little tighter. "If I hadn't made it in time..."

"I had it sorted," Kili grumbled good-naturedly.

Alana snorted. "Yeah. 'Course you did." Finally letting him go, Alana released a long breath. "Alright, let's get back to the others before we're ambushed by some mountain lions, or something."

Kili blinked. "I don't think there _are_ any mountain lions in these parts." He paused. "There aren't, right?"

"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if they came all the way down here just for you. You're a magnet for trouble, Kili, son of Dís." She winked at him when he huffed. "And you thought _I_ was the one with a death wish."

After pausing to pick up her bow from the forest floor, the two left the trees in a companionable silence, side by side. She heard a shout from Beorn's garden soon after – clearly someone had seen them returning.

"You won't tell anyone about this, will you?"

"About the fact that you took on six wolves by yourself, and killed two of them before I'd even got there? Or the fact you nearly were killed?" She smirked teasingly at him when he caught her eyes, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Well obviously the bit about nearly dying can remain a secret... Right?"

Alana chuckled. "Sure thing, Kili. Whatever you want."

"Actually," he mused, "let's just pretend there were no wolves at all. Even if I did kill two of them alone, you still killed just as many as me, and you were there for half the time that I was."

Chuckling, Alana pointed out, "I'm a Ranger, Master Dwarf. Wolves are a common foe of mine, so I know well how best to kill them."

"Still..."

"Fine, fine. This will remain between us, I swear." She smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and giving him a brief side-hug. "Just don't do this again without telling anyone, okay? Today could have ended a lot worse, and I for one would be devastated if you died."

Kili chuckled. "I know, I'm just so lovable."

Alana stopped, and Kili followed her example, turning to her with a curious expression. "I'm serious, Kee," she mumbled. "Eru knows you're like family to me. If you were killed..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Just... promise me you'll be more careful. Please?"

Kili stared at her owlishly, before asking quietly, "You think I'm family?"

Alana blinked. "Well, yeah. Of course."

Kili stared for a moment, mouth agape, before he quickly snapped it shut and smiled at her warmly. "I'm glad," he muttered. "Because I think likewise, **_irak’amad_**."

Alana groaned. "Ah, that's not fair! Stop using that blasted language!"

Kili chuckled. "Nah," he drawled with a smirk. "But if you want, you can call me something in elvish to repay the favour, since I won't understand it. The only person who'll understand both is Thorin." He paused for a second, then frowned. "On second thought, perhaps not."

"Why?" Alana queried with a chuckle. "Is your nickname for me particularly embarrassing?"

"No," he assured her quickly. "Well, not for us anyway." He shrugged. "Sorry, it's a bit... complicated, I suppose."

"That's alright, _súyon_ ," she murmured with a grin. "I'll get all the answers I want one day. In the meantime, I think I'm patient enough to wait."

With another shared grin, the two headed back to the company, Kili quickly being pulled into a hug by his brother. Over the brothers' shoulders, Alana met Thorin's eyes, and he gave her a grateful nod. She smiled in return, before turning to Oin. "Sorry to bother you, Master Healer, but I do believe you'll need to look at my wounds again. I... might have done some running earlier, and I'm not sure whether I've done any damage."

Oin nodded, and Alana was genuinely surprised he seemed so calm about the fact he kept having to check her over. She'd have thought he'd be absolutely sick of the sight of her by now, but he maintained his accepting demeanour and did his duty without complaint.

Alana glanced back and shot one last grin at Kili, who rolled his eyes fondly but nonetheless winked at her, before she turned back and followed Oin back inside Beorn's house.


	19. By the Light of the Moon

Alana didn't mind having her foot seen to, and was relieved when Oin informed her she hadn't made it any worse. He decided to check over her ribs while she was sat, because while they weren't as severely wounded as her ankle, she had fired an arrow out there in the woods, and she admitted it had hurt to do so.

Oin had her lifting the back of her tunic so he could examine her back, and it was as this was happening that Thorin came inside with Kili. She knew then that Kili was going to get an earful about wandering off, and almost wished she wasn't so close that she could hear every word.

"Kili, that was an incredibly reckless and stupid thing to do," Thorin began, his voice calm enough, but there was an undertone of anger that couldn't go ignored.

Kili sighed. "Uncle, I was just–"

"It doesn't matter what you intended to do," Thorin cut in sharply. "Do you know how easily you could have died out there? Or have you forgotten we are being _hunted by orcs?!_ " His control was clearly wavering, because his words became clipped. "Have you learnt nothing on this journey? Are you so reckless that you would throw aside your safety and the safety of all of us simply because you wanted to venture out there? Do you have _any_ idea what could have happened if you weren't found?!"

Kili's face became sad, resigned. "I know what _would_  have happened if Alana hadn't shown up," he muttered, and Thorin suddenly became very still. Kili sighed and slowly met his uncle's eyes. "I would have died," he stated simply. "That is indisputable."

Thorin's eyes widened, and his mouth fell slack. Obviously he'd had no idea that Kili had been so close to death, had been unaware of the danger he'd put himself in. This wasn't _what if_ or _maybe_ anymore – this was very, very real. Thorin schooled his expression. "What happened out there, Kili?"

Kili frowned, glancing over in Alana's direction, though he wouldn't meet her eyes. "I went out to hunt," he explained. "It's not good for us to only eat bread and honey and cream, so I went out to find some meat. I didn't get far into the forest before I was surrounded by a pack of wolves."

Thorin exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kili..."

"I just wanted to help, uncle!" the young dwarf insisted, and Thorin stared at him with an unreadable expression. "I was careful – I was looking out for wargs and orcs for every moment I was out there. But I didn't expect the wolves to attack me. The ones in Ered Luin leave us alone!"

"They leave us alone because they have learnt we are a danger to them," explained Thorin, and he had clearly reined in his anger now. "There is only one person living out here, and he may turn into an animal at will. The other animals here would not have learned whether or not people are a threat to them, and so those wolves would have seen you simply as a meal for them. They are pack animals – they often try to go for prey which is bigger than them, because they have strength in numbers." Thorin sighed heavily, running his hands over his face. "Were you hurt?" he asked at last.

Slowly, Kili shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Alana got there before anything bad happened." Thorin nodded, and turned to walk away. "Uncle?" Kili called, and Thorin paused, though didn't turn around. "I really am sorry I scared you all. I was just trying to help."

"I know, Kili," came the soft reply, and Thorin turned back to his nephew with a soft expression on his face. "You would never do anything hurt us – I know that. But you have to remember that we care for you, and getting yourself hurt would hurt us too. Please be more careful in future."

Kili nodded. "I will. I promise."

* * *

 

The rest of the week went without anything eventful happening, though the dwarves maintained their strict training routine to make sure none of them got too unfit while they were on a diet of mainly cream and honey-based foods, despite how unlikely it was to happen. Thorin took it upon himself to ensure that Bilbo was getting the proper training, and the day before they were set to leave Beorn's house Oin finally gave Alana a clean enough bill of health, deeming her fit to continue with them (though only once she swore not to strain herself too much, as her wounds had not healed completely just yet). It couldn't be denied that everyone had at some point let out a brief sigh of relief at the news.

It was on this day that the company saw Beorn for the first time in four days, and he was in a startlingly good mood. The reason for that became apparent when he took them outside, and showed them the severed head of an orc and the stretched-out pelt of a warg hanging in the entrance to his home, for all to see.

Since they were set to leave at first light the next morning, Thorin ordered that they begin packing shortly after lunch, with Beorn offering food, waterskins, healing supplies and several sets of bows and arrows. He warned them they were unlikely to find anything plentiful to eat in Mirkwood – at least not without leaving the elven path – but they would probably need to do _something_ , as their food stores were unlikely to last the whole journey, even with careful rationing.

The dwarves began settling in for their last night under a warm roof around sunset, a sense of eager anticipation in the air that would prove to keep many of them up until the wee hours of the morning. Alana herself was just about to turn in when she heard a gentle voice behind her.

"Might I have a word, Lady Ranger?"

She paused, raising an eyebrow at Thorin for what he had called her, but nonetheless nodding. "Of course, Master Dwarf."

He gave a sharp jerk of his head, before turning and heading out the door. Alana followed, perplexed, and unaware of the two pairs of excited eyes that watched them leave. Thorin was silent as he trekked through Beorn's garden towards the bathing pool, though he didn't stop there. Beyond the pool rose up the stone wall that hugged Beorn's large house, and here it was that a set of stone steps led up to the top of the wall. The steps were tall, being made for a man far larger than either of them, but both Thorin and Alana scaled them without a word of complaint or any indication they had struggled at all, though it couldn't be denied that both had. 

It was the perfect time of day, Alana mused, for a view such as this. The Misty Mountains rose up before them in the west, haloed in the aureate light of the setting sun. The flat land meant all could be seen for miles around, the rising moon casting a wash of cool, pale blue over everything. Oranges and purples filled the air, the clouds framed with silver and gold from the sun and moon who shared the sky for these short moments. Alana wondered why Thorin had brought her here, but he stared out at the mountain range ahead of them without showing any signs of speaking, so Alana followed his gaze and watched the sun sink out of sight.

When barely more than a thin sliver of the sun could be seen, the snow atop the mountains began to glitter like diamonds, throwing entire spectrums of colour across the land and into the air. The water of the Great River reflected that light back, though with more shades of blue, due to the moon's influence. Alana had seen this before, of course, from her few visits to the elvish realms this side of the Misty Mountains, but somehow it felt different this time. She lost her breath, and – while utterly captivated by the scene in front of her eyes – she couldn't help but become painfully aware of the dwarf King stood beside her. His arms were behind his back, his figure straight yet somehow relaxed, and there was an expression of total peace on his face.

"I used to be able to see this every day if I wanted to," Thorin murmured at last, his eyes shining as the glimmer of the mountains finally began to die down, the light of the moon at last overcoming the sun's golden touch. "I could make my way through the great gates of Erebor, and stand at the base of the mountain looking up, and there above my head would be a sight worthy of Gods. On the left side the mountain would be wreathed in the colour of fire, the ice crystals lit up like fireflies all along the mountain's side. And on the right, the moon would lay its light over the rocks, and the snow would turn blue like sapphires. And where they met... Mahal, you would be hard-pressed to find a greater sight. Fire and ice, meeting as one." He glanced at her, finding her blue eyes already pinned on him. "I know dwarves are not known for appreciating the beauty of the natural world, but that does not mean we are blind to it."

"Only a fool would deny it," Alana murmured in reply, smiling softly. "The mountains and the trees, the moon and the sun and the stars... They were all gifts to this world from Eru Himself, and thus they will always be beautiful."

"What do you think beauty is, my lady?"

Alana blinked in surprise. "In what sense?" she asked, frowning curiously.

Thorin smiled, a small upturn of his lips that seemed focused more on the left side of his mouth than his right. "Simply as itself. What makes something beautiful, to your eyes?"

Alana blew out a long breath. "I don't know," she admitted. "I've never really thought about it."

"Then think about it now."

His voice was light and soft, but still she got the impression that was more of a command than a suggestion, so think she did. The Ranger stood in a silent thoughtfulness for a few minutes, before she finally managed to put her thoughts into words. "Beauty, I think, isn't really what you see on the outside – it isn't superficial. External beauty can be misused and manipulative in its own way. If you think in terms of a person, it is inner beauty that allows a blind man to be led to light. To see beauty in its truest form you must see beyond the shell and look to someone's heart. If they have a good, pure heart, they are the best kind of beautiful." She smiled. "This world we're living in is full of wonders, and it is all beautiful because, when you dig deeper, there is no evil in the trees, nor the rock beneath our feet, nor the rivers that carve the valleys. They can be terrifying, and dangerous, and yet still they are beautiful." Smiling shyly, Alana glanced back to find the dwarf King suddenly far more thoughtful. "And sometimes," she whispered, catching his attention again, "when we're very lucky... a beautiful heart is reflected on the outside, too." Tilting her head to the side, she asked, "And what about you, Thorin? What do you think beauty is?"

He hummed lowly, as if in thought, but his answer came far too quickly for him to have not thought about this beforehand. "I think of it much like you, in a way," he responded. "There is no true physical aspect of beauty, though physical things can most certainly be beautiful. I believe that it is not the thing itself, but rather the feeling it ignites when you see it, and that is why different people find different things beautiful." His eyes, seeming all the more intense in the night, met hers. "I think that beauty, in its most fundamental form, is simply _inspiration_."

Alana stared at him for a long time. "Then that explains it, my Lord," she muttered, averting her gaze and hoping he couldn't see the growing heat in her cheeks, whilst also endlessly grateful he couldn't hear her thoughts.

"Explains what?"

Alana smiled to herself, unable to fight it though also not wanting to. She gathered her courage and finally met his gaze again. "You."

He drew back in slight surprise. "Me?" he echoed, confused.

"You have an exceptionally good heart, Thorin, and you inspire me because of it. You inspire a confidence and a strength in me that I didn't know I could possess." She swallowed thickly, pushing back against the part of her that wished to turn and flee. No, she had decided her path. And it seemed that now was the moment to share that decision with him. "And in truth, Thorin, both outside and in, I have always seen the beauty you possess."

Thorin's face was completely unreadable as he gazed upon her, his body relaxed and yet tense in a way she'd never seen before. He took a step towards her. " ** _Satthiye mushug, (You drive me crazy,)_** " he breathed, eyes and face softening. "How is it that you remain so calm, yet when you are near I feel like there is no breath in my lungs, no strength in my limbs, and yet at the same time all the air and all the strength that I have ever held swells within me?" Alana felt her eyes widening as he took yet another step towards her, reaching out and grasping her hands. His skin was warm – almost scorching – and her hands felt like they were being swallowed by his in a way that was only too pleasant. "You are everything I crave to be, so utterly beautiful in every way that is possible. You are my inspiration, Alana. I have made my choice now, and my choice is this: whether this heart of mine beats for merely another day or another two hundred years – it is yours, and yours alone."

For many long seconds, Alana found herself unable to speak. Instead her mind rushed about, trying to absorb everything he had just shared with her, but she found herself completely incapable of thinking past her shock.

After several seconds of silence, Thorin's face began to change. Worry and fear drifted across his eyes, and he tried to pull away. Alana's hands closed around his tightly, keeping him in place. She felt part of her melting when she noticed the tentative hope now showing on his face.

"What you see is not real," she whispered, before wincing when a look of horror crossed his face. She gently lifted his hand and pressed it against her chest, so that he might feel the hammering of her heart. "You might see calmness, but there is none. How can there be, when your mere proximity wakes me up so violently that I find myself often unable to even think? Feel my heart, Thorin. This is what you do to me simply by being here. And honestly? I think that my heart is trying to break out of my chest, so you might know that it has given itself to you, wholly and completely."

A low breath whistled between his lips, a smile curling at his lips. It was wide and broad, showing both intense relief and elation. Alana returned it, feeling a weight lifting off her shoulders when she realised that he truly did care for her. That forbidden word hung in the air, unspoken for now, but both could feel it as it brushed against them. Thorin lifted his hands, cradling her face gently with them, before he slowly tilted her head down until their foreheads touched. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, a hint of a smile still tugging at his lips as his eyes closed.

Alana's hands immediately went to bury themselves in his hair, but then what little she knew about dwarfish traditions had her pausing, a look of guilt and embarrassment crossing her face when Thorin's eyes opened and he saw her hands hovering awkwardly in the air. Slowly, she let them fall to her sides, though she smiled when he quickly tangled their fingers together. "What's wrong, **_atamanel?_** "

Alana sighed. "I feel it might take some time for me to get used to the differences between men and dwarves, particularly about our cultures. Is it not that to touch a dwarf's hair without permission is a great insult upon him?"

Thorin hummed. "Aye, it is. Usually it is only those who are dearly trusted who may touch a dwarf's hair, and it must be family or an intended only who braids it, beside oneself." He smiled at her softly. "You may touch it now if you'd like, and whenever you wish from this day forth."

Somehow, this proclamation felt far more intimate than anything else he had said to her tonight. Alana cautiously moved her hands up along his arms and over his shoulders, giving him enough time to change his mind, though he kept silent, his eyes boring into hers. She paused with her fingers at the nape of his neck, eyes scanning his face once more for any sign that this wasn't okay, and upon seeing nothing she slid her fingers through the thick tresses of his hair.

It was impossibly soft, flowing around her hands like water, and the feeling caused goosebumps to grow on her skin. Thorin's eyes fluttered closed again the more she sifted his hair between her fingers, still with his forehead pressed against hers, though now his hands started to drag along her arms, mimicking her earlier path. Alana let out a soft sigh as his fingers wound themselves into her hair, Thorin interpreting her lack of resistance as her consent for him to do so. For a moment they simply stood there, eyes closed, holding each other. Then their eyes opened together, and with an unspoken agreement between them they both shifted forwards and let their lips touch for the first time. 

Alana wasn't entirely sure what she had expected, having never kissed anyone like this before, but she was taken aback by the flood of warmth that washed over her the moment their lips connected. Her heart flew up into her throat, pounding faster than ever, and she was so overwhelmed by the sensations that surrounded her that she had to pull back. The stormy grey of Thorin's irises was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes – which she had somehow closed without noticing – and there was a tenderness to his expression that made her shiver. His right hand shifted away from her hair to cradle her face, and then they were kissing again, this time with far greater force. It was like the dam had broken, and all their unspoken thoughts and feelings were laid bare in front of them, but it wasn't enough. Thorin's lips were warm and soft, though the scruff of his beard added a roughness that made Alana shudder. Her fingers dug themselves deeper into his hair, tugging it slightly, and he reciprocated in kind.

It was only when they were both becoming delirious from a lack of breath that they pulled apart again, sucking in desperate gasps of air yet maintaining eye contact. Thorin's eyes had almost been completely swallowed by the black of his pupils, and Alana imagined she would look the same, though perhaps with slightly rosy cheeks as well.

A tender smile spread across Thorin's face as he looked at her, dropping his hands down and taking her own once more. "I will not pretend that I will not be difficult to live with at times, nor that the road from here will be without peril or contention, but I would ask of you a single promise; that you will walk that road alongside me." He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Will you allow me to court you, Alana, daughter of Arathorn?"

Alana's answer came only after she beamed at him, eyes crinkling at the sides and a silent laugh of elation whistling past her teeth. "Of course I will, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain. It would be my pleasure."

Thorin's face lit up, and he pressed a short, happy kiss on her lips before asking, "Then may I place my braid in your hair, so that all may know to whom you have promised your heart?"

Alana chuckled. "Always so formal," she teased. "I think I would like that very much. Is it something I'll have to do in return?"

Thorin hummed, watching as she sat herself down where she stood, while he perched on the edge of the wall, before taking a section of hair from the right side of her head in his hands. He began to weave it together as he responded. "You do not need to, though I would certainly not object if you did. It is most common that a dwarf will tie the end of their partner's braid with a bead of their own design and making, one that is personal to them. I would imagine you do not have one of those for yourself."

Alana hummed. "No, I don't. I wouldn't be opposed to carving one out of wood, though, if you wouldn't object. At least until I can learn how to make one properly."

Thorin raised his eyebrows, though with her head still turned she didn't see it. "Are you sure? You have no real need to – even in our culture, not all men have their woman's braid in their hair. And you are not a dwarf."

Smiling to herself, Alana admitted quietly, "I forget that sometimes. I just feel so... happy with all of you. Like I belong, you know? You are so different to my own people, yet I feel like I fit with you just as easily. Am I wrong to think that?"

"No," he said simply, snapping closed a metal bead with the insignia of the line of Durin, along with his name carved underneath in khuzdul. He held the braid in his hand for a moment, admiring how it looked in her hair, before letting it fall. "There. It may come loose in the coming days – I will re-braid it whenever I have to." Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, both of them smiling to themselves as he did, before Thorin stood up.

Alana did the same, wiping invisible dust off her clothes, before turning to him once more. "I will get to work on the bead I wish to place in your hair once we enter the forest," she promised. "It should be done in five days or so after that, if I can find enough time to work on it." She spoke up quickly before he could mention once more that it was unnecessary. "Let me do this, Thorin, please."

He chuckled, nodding as he did. "As you wish." He shot her a smirk, grasping her hand. "Come, **_atamanel_** , we should rest before we leave in the morning."

* * *

 

Muttering was the only sound Alana could hear when she woke the next morning, groggy and slightly delirious. It took her a moment to remember what had happened the night before, and before she could fight it, she felt her cheeks heating up. Not because she was embarrassed that she and Thorin were courting; no, never that. She was more embarrassed by the fact she had fallen asleep with her new braid in plain view, and that those mutterings she could hear were probably about that. And indeed, when she opened her eyes, she found twelve other pairs already upon her form. Bilbo was also awake, though he was looking at the others in confusion, knowing even less about dwarven culture than she did.

Upon noticing she was awake, Kili grinned at her. "Finally decided to stop dancing around each other, did you?"

Alana groaned, knowing she was going to be spending the next few hours (at least – it would probably stretch to days and, maybe, even weeks) being endlessly teased by the two young sons of Durin. " _Súyon_ –"

"No, no," Fili interrupted quickly, smirking. "You're not allowed to evade the question by using elvish."

Kili shook his head, nudging his brother in the ribs and whispering, "No, Fee, that's her nickname for me."

Fili blinked. "Oh." He turned to face her. "What does it mean?"

"If I was going to tell you that, I wouldn't have started saying it in elvish," she grumbled, pushing herself to her feet and then stretching, arms above her head. She let out a long sigh when her back popped, loosening slightly after the long hours of stillness. "And as for your other question, I would think the answer to that would be blatantly obvious."

The brothers grinned at her broadly. "Well, it's about time!" Kili cried, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, watching you two go back and forth was becoming insufferable."

"Not to mention it had gotten to the point where we were betting when you'd finally stop beating around the bush, so to speak." Fili gave her a mock-stern look, to which she just raised an eyebrow.

"Speaking of which," Kili piped up gleefully, "you all owe me ten gold coins."

There were a few grumbles from the others, but they nonetheless started exchanging coins. It seemed that Kili and Balin were the only winners of this particular bet, and the two were apparently very proud of their achievement. "Unbelievable," Alana muttered, shaking her head. "You guys need to find a better pastime than gambling."

Kili shrugged, pocketing his winnings. "You can't deny it can be useful. Of the several bets we have had so far this journey, I have been successful in all but one. As such, I am now seventy gold coins better off than I was at the beginning, even after spending some in Bree. Not too shabby if you ask me."

"Pretty sure no one asked you, Kee," Alana teased, winking at the indignant expression on his face.

"Well, lass," Balin chirped, being the first of the others to speak up the whole time, "I believe congratulations are in order. I had a feeling this was the path you'd choose."

"What do you mean by that?" Bilbo asked curiously, apparently having finally worked out what it was they were talking about. 

Balin hummed. "Oh, I approached the lass several days ago, asking her about her... intentions towards our esteemed King. I took it upon myself to remind her of the duties she has elsewhere, but also told her that ignoring your heart was not often the best way to go."

"I was in a mental stalemate for almost two days because of what you said," Alana grumbled.

"What made you finally decide?" Fili asked curiously.

Smiling softly at the memory, Alana replied, "That day when you, your bother and your uncle were wrestling on the grass. It made me realise that to push this feeling away would kill me in the end. Maybe not literally (though perhaps that is not impossible either), but I couldn't bear the thought of trying to hide from this." She shrugged, before realising that the focus of their conversation was absent. "Where is he anyway?"

"He's talking to Beorn," Dwalin responded gruffly. "We're to leave in an hour."

Alana nodded in understand, leaving the room with a parting pat on Kili's shoulder, who shot her a smug grin. She rolled her eyes fondly, before heading outside to join Thorin and Beorn.


	20. One of Us

It was as the company were beginning to saddle their new ponies that a low chirp sounded, and they all turned their heads skyward in time to see one of Beorn's pigeons returning. It landed on Alana's shoulder, sticking out its leg so she could untie the rather thick letter that was attached.

"I thought you received word back from the dúnedain two days ago," Thorin murmured in confusion. He had seen her retrieve her first letter, but hadn't known she'd sent out a second and thus this arrival was a surprise for him.

Alana smiled at him. "This one isn't from my people."

He frowned. "Then who?"

Chuckling, Alana opened the letter. "That, my Lord, is a secret."

Huffing when he realised she'd thrown his words from several days ago right back at him, Thorin let the subject go. He watched her expression as she read through the letter though, and so watched the smile on her face gradually grow until it was a full-blown grin. She met his eyes, and after inclining her head slightly and receiving a nod, she turned and went back inside Beorn's house so she could write a reply (or so he assumed).

"What was all that about?" Fili asked, appearing next to him out of nowhere. Thorin let out an internal sigh and began mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of comments he was no doubt about to receive.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Alana has decided not to share her correspondence with me, and I feel very little inclination to pursue the matter. She will tell me in time, if she wants to."

"Speaking of 'pursuing' things..." Kili piped up with a wide grin, and Thorin couldn't help but think to himself _'there it is'._ "I feel it would be the right time for me to say it's about damn time."

"You said that before," Fili pointed out with a grin.

Kili shrugged. "It doesn't hurt to repeat it, especially since I said it to Alana before, not uncle." He turned his eyes back to Thorin, who at this point had arched an eyebrow at him, wondering just when Kili had had the chance to interrogate Alana. The young brunette shrugged. "She went to sleep with a new braid in her hair – not exactly the most subtle of things in the presence of dwarves. Doubly so since our little plan is going ahead later tonight." He paused. "It _is_ still happening, right?"

Thorin nodded. "Of course. So long as everyone is still happy with their choice."

"Oh, we are," Fili assured him quickly.

"Hey, uncle?" Kili asked suddenly, and Thorin got the feeling his nephew was about to change the subject (which a large part of him was grateful for). "What does _súyon_ mean?"

Thorin blinked. "What?"

" _Súyon_ ," Kili repeated. "It's what Alana's decided to call me. What does it mean?"

Thorin shook his head. "I do not know."

"But I thought–"

"Don't forget I don't know elvish fluently," Thorin cut in. "I know enough to get me by, for sure, but not everything. Clearly this is not a common word, or else I would understand. As such, I'm afraid you shall have to remain in the dark."

Groaning, Kili grumbled under his breath in khuzdul, making Fili – who apparently was close enough to hear him – chuckle. "Ah, don't be too put off, **_nadadith_** , at least you can return the favour."

"I already have," the younger brother admitted. "In fact, I did it first."

"Really? What name did you choose for her?"

Both Fili and Thorin stared curiously at Kili, who suddenly looked a little bit sheepish. When the brunette met his uncle's eyes, Thorin raised an eyebrow again, and, just as he predicted, his nephew caved. Sighing heavily, Kili finally answered, "I call her **_irak'amad_**."

Silence reigned for a long time, Fili staring at his brother in shock, while Thorin's face maintained a mask of careful neutrality.

Fili was the first to find his voice again. "Since when?"

"Since the day she found me in the forest," Kili murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't really know _why_ I called her that, of all things, to be honest. It just slipped out. But in the end, I thought... Well, it's not so bad. Right?" Here, Kili looked up at Thorin, an apprehensive expression on his young face.

At long length, Thorin let out a breath. "Well," he began calmly, "if that is truly how you feel, who am I to say otherwise?"

Kili's face lit up into a grin almost immediately. "You really don't mind?"

Thorin chuckled. "Why wouldn't I?"

Kili shrugged. "I’m not really sure. I just expected you to go mad over it."

Shaking his head, Thorin placed a firm hand on Kili's shoulder. "No," he assured gently. "In fact, it is quite the opposite. I am pleased to hear you accept her as family."

Kili smiled, in such a way that Thorin was reminded of the lad when he was just a young dwarfling and Thorin had praised his shooting for the first time. Thorin leaned his head down and gently knocked it again Kili's, before doing the same with Fili and then leaving his nephews to sort out their ponies, approaching his own.

* * *

 

Alana thanked Beorn briefly, not just for allowing her to use his homing pigeons but also for providing them with shelter while she healed, before mounting the horse he'd brought out for her. All around her, the dwarves were doing the same.

"Go now," Beorn said, addressing them all. "Go while you still have the light. It won't be long before your hunters notice you have left – they will not be far behind."

Thorin sent the skin-changer a nod of thanks, before nudging his pony's flank and causing it to begin galloping across the wide plain. The rest followed, Gandalf and Alana's steeds only needing to maintain an even canter to keep up with the shorter-legged ponies. It was to be a three day ride to the Forest Gate, provided they were not further hindered, and once they arrived they would likely have only an hour or two before darkness fell. They would all have liked to stretch the journey to four or even five days, but with orcs on their tail their need for speed outweighed their desire for greater comfort.

They were lucky during that first day, coming across nothing of concern on their trip. The open plains meant all could be seen around them – though equally it meant they too could be seen by all, and so they kept a constant eye on the horizon. When night was falling Alana and Kili peeled off from the rest of the group as they were making camp, taking only their bows with them. As they learned that night, the two made a great team, communicating efficiently with only hand gestures and nods of the head. They returned to camp after an hour, carrying with them six rabbits and two pheasants.

They risked building a small fire, though only kept it lit long enough to cook the meat. As the dark of night became deeper, Alana expected everyone to turn in, but was surprised when instead they were once more huddled into a small group, whispering. Gandalf was sat to the side, pipe in hand, and wearing a slight smirk as he eavesdropped on the dwarves – being a wizard, and being as old as he was, he could understand their language. Bilbo and Alana watched the group with open curiosity, feeling a little put-off that they weren't being included in the conversation.

A good ten minutes after they first started, the dwarves finally stopped talking, and instead turned – almost as one – to face the two. Bilbo tensed, but Alana simply tilted her head to the side in silent question.

Balin stepped forward, clearly intending to explain, so the two kept patiently silent. "As you know by now, braids are very important to a dwarf," he began, both hobbit and woman nodding in agreement. "A braid may tell many things – to which family you belong, your social standing, whether you are free to court or whether you have found your significant other..." Here he paused, winking at Alana, who felt her cheeks heating up slightly. She suddenly found herself extremely grateful for the low light. "Braids can also be used to identify someone who has been accepted as a dwarf-friend." Alana felt her breath catch in her throat, guessing where this was going. Balin smiled at the two. "We all think of you both as great friends of ours, and for Bilbo, we are sorry we cannot bestow upon you anything to portray you as such."

"Aye, Bilbo," Bofur called with a grin. "Any braid we put in that curly hair of yours would be no more than an inch long and would fall out in an hour."

Bilbo shook him off. "It's fine," he assured. "Though I am humbled and honoured to have been labelled thus. Your word in the matter is all I will ever need."

Balin nodded, smiling brightly. "Now you, my dear," he started, sending Alana a broad smile, "are a different case. There is not a single dwarf behind me who does not wish to formally declare that you are a friend of dwarves, and we would wish to add our kin braids to your hair, if you would let us, so all may know that we have accepted you as an honorary member of our families."

Alana gaped at him for a long time, before she snapped her mouth shut, swallowed, and then glanced behind him. The rest of the company were stood there with smiles on their faces, and she felt there was no way she could ever turn down such an honour. Unable to find her tongue, she met Balin's eyes and nodded. Balin grinned at her, then stepped back. Fili, Bofur, Ori and Gloin stepped forward, each with their hand carefully curled around what Alana was sure was a bead.

"Being that we are so close in blood," Gloin told her, "this bead will connect you to both my brother and I, and the sons of Fundin as well." Then he sat himself beside her – taking Bilbo's place, who quickly moved to sit beside Gandalf – and began carefully braiding the hair just above her left ear.

Ori, with a shy, cautious smile, mirrored the older dwarf and began weaving an identical braid on Alana's other side without a word. The Ranger, meanwhile, could only sit in stunned silence, her eyes welling with emotional tears as she became all too aware of how utterly _precious_ these dwarves were to her. And here they were, naming her as not only dwarf-friend, but also friends of their individual bloodlines. Gloin was the first to finish, snapping his family's bead into the end of her hair, and with a firm pat on her shoulder he stood, allowing Bofur to take his place.

"Now lass, I know we're not royal blood, nor even of the same forefather as the rest," Bofur began with a goofy grin, "but my brother, cousin and I would like the same honour of introducing you into our family, if that's okay."

Alana let out a laugh that sounded thick with her unshed tears. "Oh, you daft dwarf! Of course it is; and it is my honour, not yours, to be accepted as such." She grinned brightly at him, and he returned it, before he quickly set about weaving a braid for the Ur family above Gloin's. He was around halfway through it when Ori finally finished his braid, and after offering another shy smile, he gently knocked his forehead against hers and then stood. Alana's beam followed him as he returned to stand with his brothers, both of whom nodded at her.

Fili was the last to sit by her side, and he didn't say anything before starting to braid her hair for the fourth and final time. He remained silent until Bofur was done and stood, leaving with a firm pat on her head. "Thank you," Fili murmured, and Alana got the impression what he was saying was for her ears only.

She glanced at him in confusion. "What for?"

Fili let his eyes flick over to where Thorin and Kili were watching them with smiles on their faces – Thorin's far smaller than Kili's, though no less genuine. "For saying yes," he replied simply. "For agreeing to court my uncle. He may not show it much on the outside, but he is happier now than he has been for a long time, and it is thanks to you, **_irak'amad_**."

She decided to ignore the nickname this time. "There's nothing to thank me for," she whispered. "I am equally as happy as he, I can assure you. But nonetheless, I worry."

"Why?"

"I am not a dwarf, and he is your King." She shook her head, then smiled sheepishly when he frowned, the movement causing his grip on her hair to slip. "I knew the moment I realised how I felt that whatever may come of these feelings would likely be contested by many. I am willing to fight until my last breath for this, if necessary, but still I worry that I will not ever be accepted amongst your kind."

Fili smiled. "Alana, these beads do not just mark you as dwarf-friend – they also show our support of you and all your endeavours. To others, this says that we will defend you until our last day in this life, and that says that we have come to accept you as one of us, and even as uncle's One."

Alana blinked. "His One? What does that mean?"

Fili hesitated, finishing off the braid by closing it in a bead, though when he didn't move the others remained at a distance, allowing the two to talk. He finally met her eyes. "A dwarf's heart is strong and hardy, but it is stubborn like stone, and as such it may only choose to love once. Thorin has chosen you, and therefore you will be the only person his heart will ever love like that. We may feel love for our families, and our friends, but the love between a husband and his wife is different. It is sacred." He shook his head. "I'm surprised he didn't explain this to you when he asked to court you."

Alana smiled wanly. "Perhaps he did not wish to scare me away with such... finality."

Fili blinked, looking concerned. "Are you?" he asked.

Alana scoffed. "It would take far more than that to scare me off, Fili. I have no intention of leaving Thorin; not now, and not ever. While the hearts of men may be capable of loving more than once, that doesn't mean they have any desire to."

Fili grinned, before he leaned forward and pulled her into a hug, which she readily returned, smiling with the knowledge that she and Fili were family now. The thought made her lift her eyes to Thorin and Kili, the latter of whom quickly grinned and bounded forward when he noticed her gaze. He quickly tackled her and Fili to the ground, making the Ranger laugh while Fili grumbled good-naturedly. Kili ended up sprawled across them, much like he had been not a week before at Beorn's. He tilted his head to her and beamed. "Welcome to the family, Alana."

She smirked. "Sure you can keep up with me?" she teased.

Fili chuckled. "We should be asking you that, **_irak'amad_**."

She shrugged. "I've got a ten-year-old brother, how much worse could you be?"

The brothers paused when she said that, met each other's eyes, and then grinned mischievously. Alana began to regret ever uttering those words, but before she could say anything, Kili finally rolled off of them, allowing Alana and Fili to stand up again. She smiled softly when Thorin broke away from the rest of the group, and the two brothers not-so-stealthily left the two alone. 

"You seem happy," he noted quietly, smiling at her with such tenderness that Alana's heart genuinely _throbbed_ in her chest.

She beamed at him. "Why shouldn't I be? I don't think I have ever felt more... well, more  _loved_ in my entire life."

Thorin continued to smile, and he gently lifted her hand to his lips, smirking when he noticed the way she jolted slightly at the touch. "You _are_ loved, **_atamanel_** ," he murmured. "Very deeply, by all of us." He gently tugged at the braid he'd put in her hair the night before. He swallowed thickly, then added, "And by none more than me." He let out a long breath, smiling as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. "I love you, Alana."

Eyes once again wet with tears of joy, Alana leaned her forehead against his. "I love you, too, Thorin," she whispered, and then felt herself being tugged into an intense kiss. His lips moved with vigour against hers, with so much passion and feeling, and Alana forgot completely that they were not alone as she began to reciprocate.

It was barely a second later that a teasing whoop sounded, probably having come from Fili or Kili (though it sounded more like the older brother), and the two pulled away slowly. Thorin had an expression of annoyance on his face, but Alana couldn't help but laugh softly. "We're not going to have a moment of peace for the remainder of this journey, are we?" grumbled the dwarf, accompanying it with a heavy sigh.

Alana shrugged. "I'm sure we'll come up with something," she muttered in return, planting another brief kiss on his lips before straightening. She then moved to go and sit next to Fili and Kili, and even while he watched her already smiling face brightened further, and within two minutes she was howling with laughter alongside the boys. Thorin felt a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips, glad to know that the woman he loved – Mahal _nothing_ felt better than admitting that to her and having the words repeated back – and his nephews got on so famously.

He tilted his head to the side when he noticed Balin stop beside him, offering the older dwarf a nod of greeting. "Are you sure about this, laddie?" Balin asked. Thorin frowned, and the dwarf quickly assured, "I'm not trying to get you to change your mind, I swear. But there will be those who are against this, and there is only so much that thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard can do to sway them."

Thorin hummed thoughtfully. "You are right," he said at length. "But you forgot that Alana herself is a force to be reckoned with, and there will undoubtedly be those who either do not care either way, or even accept and support it. I am confident that my sister, for one, will become instant friends with her, and having Dís' aid in this will be invaluable."

Balin chuckled. "I almost fear the day that those two cross paths for the first time," he mused. "I'm not sure Erebor will be able to handle it."

"It's not Erebor I'm worried about," Thorin mumbled, almost to himself, though Balin still heard him with perfect clarity. "It's me."

Letting out a hearty laugh, Balin clapped him heavily on the shoulder. "You made this choice, Thorin, and don't you forget it. There's no turning back now."

"Nay, there is not," he agreed, smiling when he heard Kili and Fili burst into laughter once more. "But that's not such a bad thing."

"Well then," the old dwarf stated with finality, "you have the support of every dwarf and hobbit here, until the end of days."

Thorin nodded, feeling gratitude well up in his chest. "Thank you, my friend. I appreciate it."

"Anytime, laddie." Balin smiled gently. "Anytime."


	21. The Depths of Mirkwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas all!!! :)

It was nearly dark by the time they came to the edge of Mirkwood, having been travelling with very little time to rest for over three days. Dark clouds were beginning to creep over them, warning them that the weather as they entered the forest would not be on their side. Alana hoped that the thick canopy of entangled limbs and leaves above their heads would provide sufficient shelter from the wind and rain once the storm hit, though she wasn't feeling especially hopeful. Thankfully, this storm didn't look like it was going to last longer than a day or two.

"The Elven Gate," Gandalf announced as the group began dismounting from their ponies. "Here lies the path through Mirkwood."

"No sign of the orcs," Dwalin reported. "We have luck on our side."

Alana winced, knowing that there was no way the orcs could have missed them leaving Beorn's. She could think of only one explanation for their uninterrupted journey – something had pulled Azog away from his vengeful hunt. And anything that could command the likes of him was truly something to be feared. For the sake of the others, though, Alana kept her thoughts to herself.

"Set the ponies loose," the grey wizard commanded lightly. "Let them return to their master."

"This forest feels sick," Bilbo called from closer to the treeline, peering into the darkness in front of him. "As if a disease lies upon it." He turned back to face them. "Is there no way around it?"

"It is a two hundred mile trek further north, should we choose to go around," Alana told him. "And doing so would take us past the Grey Mountains."

Bilbo cocked his head to the side. "And... what's wrong with those mountains?"

Alana smiled sadly. "They once held many dwarven strongholds, but now they have been overrun by dragons. And where there are no dragons, you'll find orcs and goblins of many kinds. The chances of us going that way and not being seen are... slim at best. Truly, though the state of the forest troubles me, I do believe there is no safer route to the mountain than this one."

"Not even if we go south?"

"If we do that, we will most likely run out of time."

Sighing in resignation, Bilbo nodded his head. Alana blinked when Gandalf suddenly rushed past her. "Not my horse!" he called frantically. "I need it."

"You're not leaving us," Bilbo murmured, sounding utterly terrified by the thought.

Gandalf sighed, pausing beside his horse and grasping hold of its reins. "I would not do this unless I had to," he said, "though I must admit I have travelled far further with you than I had originally intended. But there is pressing business to the south that I must attend to." He peered down his nose at the suddenly disheartened little hobbit. "You have changed, Bilbo Baggins," he noted idly. "You are not the same hobbit as the one who left the Shire."

"Alana!" Thorin called, and the Ranger turned away from the conversation going on between wizard and halfling, instead approaching Thorin with a smile. He returned it somewhat meekly, holding up a pack for her to carry. She took it without complaint, pulling the straps over her shoulders and then adjusting it slightly so the majority of the weight rested at the base of her spine. Thorin glanced at the trees with a heavy-set frown. "You have been in here before?"

Slowly, Alana nodded. "Yes, I have. More than once, in fact, though when I came this way I took the Old Forest Road, and the trees were not so... foul." She shook her head. "Thranduil is a very narrow-sighted elf, and rarely looks beyond his own borders, but I am surprised he has allowed the forest to get this bad."

Thorin looked pensive for a moment, before he reached into the fold of his coat and pulled out the map and key to Erebor, before offering them to her. She took a half-step back, startled by the wordless request. "Please," he murmured. "There is a risk of us being found by elves, and you are less likely to be searched if that is the case. They will be safer in your possession."

With a small sigh, Alana took the offered items and slipped them into a deep pocket. She would find a better place to keep them later, but for now, they would be safe enough.

"Might I steal a moment, my dear?"

Alana glanced over her shoulder at Gandalf, who was leaning heavily on his staff. Bilbo had moved to stand with Balin at this point, and the rest of the dwarves seemed to all be ready and waiting to enter Mirkwood. All that was left was to say goodbye to the wizard.

Alana stopped in front of her old friend, frowning at the peculiar expression on his face. "What is it, Mithrandir?"

Letting out a loud sigh, Gandalf admitted quietly, "What I am about to tell you will no doubt anger you greatly, but I must urge you to know that I did it with the best of intentions."

Her frown deepened. "What did you do, Gandalf?" Her voice held a more cautionary tone now, as if warning him against saying anything that might upset her, though it did not stop him.

"Thranduil knows about your heritage, and that of your brother."

Alana couldn't comprehend the words for a long time, standing still as a statue, eyes wide and mouth agape. Then the news settled, and the word _anger_ couldn't fully express the potency of the utter fury and hurt that flared. "You _told_ him?!" she hissed.

"He is a powerful ally to have–"

"Forget that!" she shouted, drawing the attention of the rest of the company. "Forget allies and truces. Forget it all! This was _not_ your secret to share, Mithrandir."

"Now, listen–"

"No," she cut in sharply, narrowing her eyes at him. "Don't say a word. I don't want to hear any excuses you might have for your actions; you have betrayed my trust, in the _worst_ way possible." She stepped back, her face falling flat. "I wish you good luck on your venture," she uttered coldly, with a bitterness to her tone that was almost enough to make the old wizard flinch. "May it be that our paths do not cross again." Then with a final glare in his direction, she turned on her heel and stalked through the Forest Gate, confident that the company would catch up with her soon enough.

* * *

Alana paused about a mile into the trees, realising that her long legs and fast pace meant she was probably pulling away from the dwarves. She was angry with Gandalf, not them, and she didn't want them to think they had lost her. She wasn't too fond of the idea of traipsing through the forest alone, either, so she found a decent place to stop and then sat down, her back against a tree. Barely thirty seconds passed before she raised her knees and rested her elbows against them, burying her face in her hands.

She just couldn't understand why Gandalf would do this to her. He knew very well how much she despised Thranduil, and he also knew how important this secret was. So why would he think it was a good idea to share it? Alana didn't believe that Thranduil would try to kill her or her brother, but she also didn't think he was above threatening their anonymity to further his own ends. And that was what she was afraid of – that they wouldn't be able to hide anymore, that their lineage would be announced to the world and any opposition they may have would come surging forward to claim their lives. Alana would do anything to keep Aragorn safe, and Thranduil no doubt knew that, and now she feared what he might ask her to do in exchange for him keeping their secret from being told.

Alana was alone for about ten minutes before the dwarves caught up with her, and beyond a few concerned looks shot her way, none of them said anything as she equally wordlessly stood and began walking just in front of Thorin. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before asking in slightly broken Elvish, " _Sut naa lle? (How are you?)_ "

She glanced back at him, seeing the furrowed-browed look on his face. " _Uuma dela o hamin, (Don't worry about me,)_ " she grumbled, knowing that her dour mood was the least of everyone's problems.

" _Mani marte? (What happened?)_ " he urged, clearly not intending to let it slide.

She eyed him for a moment, before heaving out a long breath. "He told Thranduil about the ancestry of my family. He shared our secret without permission."

Thorin's frown deepened, and he muttered what sounded suspiciously like a curse under his breath in khuzdul. He met her gaze again. "What does that mean for you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really want to know, since it'll probably involve a threat of some kind." She ran her hands over her face, mentally exhausted. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see."

"With luck we won't encounter any of the elves living in this forest."

Alana hummed in agreement. "We should prepare for the possibility that we will, though."

"Prepare?" he echoed. "What do you mean?"

She glanced back at him, a hint of a smirk curling at her lips. "Well, I don't suppose you want to tell anyone our true purpose for being out in the wild, do you, _meleth nín_?"

He smiled softly at her and nodded. "No, you are right. We should come up with something tonight, when everyone is resting – that way, we will all know, and no details will be lost in retelling it." With that decided, the two settled into a comfortable silence, leading the rest of the company deeper and deeper into the trees.

* * *

It wasn't long before they had delved so deep into the forest that barely a single beam of sunlight filtered through the dense leaves, the wood taking on a darkened green glimmer. They noticed quickly that the trees were a hive of black squirrels which leapt from treetop to treetop, uncaring of the oppressive weight over them. There were other sounds too; grunts, scufflings, scratches... But none of them could peer deep enough into the undergrowth to determine what it was that made these noises. There was no movement of air in the space down under the forest roof, and it was everlastingly still and dark and stuffy. Bilbo and Alana were affected the worst, being used to open spaces and lots of light, but even the dwarves began to feel the suffocating effect of the forest.

They were all grateful when night fell. They made camp on the middle of the path, stretched out in a single-file line so not one of them was without even a toe on the path. The eerie quietness meant all sounds travelled further, and in the darkness they came up with a cover story for their presence in Mirkwood, and in the east as a whole. They nibbled on little bits of food, not nearly enough to satisfy them, but they had to be careful with their rations. Alana stopped them from lighting a fire, saying that it would not only draw the attention of hundreds of species of insect, but also that they would soon been swarmed by moths who were drawn to the flames. Though they grumbled, the company wisely listened to her, and they spent their first night sleeping uneasily and trying to ignore the peering, shining eyes of the creatures that had noticed them.

This repeated for many days and nights, their progress steady even when the weather took a turn for the worst and unleashed a fierce storm upon them; though since every tree looked like every other it felt like they were not moving forwards at all. Alana found herself spending almost every available minute with her hand clasped in Thorin's – during the day he used it to ensure she didn't fall behind, and at night they both used the touch to provide comfort in the knowledge that they were not alone, and were within reach of each other should something happen. The only time she pulled her hand from his was when they were rising first thing in the morning, during which time she would sit with Bifur, who had agreed to help her carve the bead she was to add to Thorin's hair. Given how little time she had to work on it, her progress was far too slow for her liking.

After some time – and no one was quite sure how long it had been, for the days seemed to blur together in the unfaltering monotony of their surroundings – the seed of doubt and worry began to grow. Their stores of food were running low, despite their careful rationing, and they were growing thirsty, too. There was only one drinkable water source in the entire forest, and they were many miles south of that river.

After what must have been almost two weeks, they came across a black stream. It split the path in two, and what remained of the stone bridge across was not enough for them to safely cross.

"We could try and swim it," Bofur offered. He was the first to speak besides Thorin in almost three days, and the sound of his voice was rather peculiar.

"Did you not hear what the skin-changer said?" Thorin snapped, his temper, like everyone else's, somewhat shorter now. "A dark magic lies upon this forest. The waters of this stream are enchanted."

Bofur scrunched up his nose. "It doesn't look very enchanting to me," he grumbled.

"We must find another way across," Thorin stated simply, though with a heaviness to his tone as he gently pulled Alana closer to the bank of the stream. She stumbled slightly, a wooziness having settled heavily over her mind in the last day or two. The others didn't seem too badly affected, but in her delirious mind she knew it wouldn't be long before they too were unable to think straight.

Kili stepped ahead of the rest, eyes on something Alana suddenly couldn't make out completely. Her vision swam before her, and she swayed in turn, coming to lean a little more heavily on Thorin's side. He shot her a concerned look that she could barely see, even though she was right beside him. "These vines look strong enough," Kili noted cautiously, tugging on the aforementioned plants. He took a step forward.

"Kili!" Thorin barked, stopping his nephew in his tracks. "We send the lightest first." Everyone turned to Bilbo, who returned the expectant expressions with his own one of frustrated exasperation, before he pushed past them and clambered onto the vines. As he began to cross, Thorin glanced up at Alana, taking note of the glazed look in her eyes. Her skin was paler than normal, and she looked ready to collapse where she stood. "Will you be okay crossing?" Thorin asked, placing his hand on her cheek and making her blink a few times, successfully clearing away some of the fog in her vision.

She slowly returned his gaze, then smile weakly. "I'll be fine," she whispered, pecking his lips lightly, before looking out at Bilbo again.

"It looks alright," Bilbo reported. "Can't see any problems–" He let out a yelp as he missed the vine he was trying to grab onto with his hands, his feet slipping to either side of the vine. He managed to wrap his legs around them so he didn't touch the water, grumbling, "Well, there's one," under his breath. He quickly scrambled onto a lower set of vines, managing to avoid the water. He continued moving, eventually leaping across to the other side.

With the confirmation that the vines were safe – even the thinnest ones – Thorin nodded to his kin and sent them across the stream. Bombur was kept back until the end, as he was the heaviest and thus the most likely to cause the vines to fail. It wasn't long before he had overtaken many of his kin though, being one of the first to reach the bank on the other side. Thorin landed with a thud not long after, and having almost lost his bow on the crossing, it was now firmly grasped in his hand.

Alana paused halfway across the vines when she heard the sound of hooves, and began looking around her. A pearly white stag sprung into view, pausing to eye the company with a curiosity that was unusual in wild animals. Perhaps he wasn't wild; perhaps he was one of King Thranduil's. She blinked in surprise when an arrow hit the tree behind, only barely missing the stag, and watched with a hint of dismay as the stag sprung away. For someone who hadn't eaten properly in many long, tiring days, that stag looked almost good enough to eat raw.

"Alana!"

The frantic call of her name from Kili's lips made her realise she hadn't moved in almost a minute, and that she was the only one left on the vines. Her head lolled slightly as she tilted it back towards the company, and she let out a long breath in an attempt to clear her foggy brain. She leaned forward to grab the vine in front of her, only to shriek when the vine snapped. With reflexes born only from many years in the wild she managed to grab hold of the next vine, her ankles locking around the one she was stood on. Her back brushed the water, and she could feel it beginning to soak into her clothes.

Swearing under her breath, Alana pulled herself up, all but crawling her way towards the bank now. She smiled gratefully when Bombur reached out a hand to pull her ashore, but in doing so his foot slipped, and the two of them went tumbling into the stream. It was barely another second before Alana's world was overcome by blackness.


	22. Back To Square One

In her mind's eye, Alana saw the towering, white city of Minas Tirith above her head. She knew this was no more than a dream, a figment of her imagination, because the whole picture was fuzzy at the edges. Nothing was quite sharp enough to be real.

She was stood by the main gate, just outside the city walls. Before her was an army of screaming, shouting orcs, bashing their drums. The city behind her was on fire, the soldiers crying out in panic and despair. Then came a horn, splitting the air the way an arrow might split a branch. Then an army of horses, six thousand strong at least, appeared from the north. Alana watched with detachment as the two armies clashed, watching horse, warg, orc and man alike fall to the merciless hand of Death. Then came a swarm of green from the river. A pang of familiarity hit her when she remembered the dream Aragorn had told her about in Rivendell; about an army of skeletons; of the dead. Was this what he dreamt of that day?

Suddenly she was no longer by the city, but instead closer to the river, where half a dozen ships had pulled to a stop. She glanced around her curiously. Men were fighting viciously against the orcs, taking down whoever the dead army had missed. Blood splattered the ground, a mix of red and black, and the air held the foul smell of sweat and smoke and death. The scent of water hit her nose next, wafting over from the river.

A man with a shaggy head of dark hair flecked with grey suddenly came to a stop beside her, appearing from seemingly nowhere. He was covered in blood and grime and dirt, with dark purple bags under his eyes and an impossible weight on his shoulders. He was a Ranger, that was for sure, as evidenced by his black clothes and the way his keen grey eyes scanned his surroundings, passing straight through her. Alana was instantly stunned. She almost thought she was looking at her father, though she knew he'd never been in a battle of this scale, and that he had been far younger on his single visit to the White City. Who was this man then? And what was a Ranger of the North doing so far from the Shire?

A quiet, distant voice, sounded in her ear, tugging at her subconscious. "Come on, **_atamanel_** , you must wake. **_Kasamhili, ibkin! (Please, wake up!)_** "

Alana looked around her with a frown, trying to find the source of the phantom voice, but no one had so much as glanced her way. They continued to move as if she didn't exist. So who could it be?

It took her a moment to remember that this was a dream, and so the voice was probably coming from the real world. Gods, where was she? What was she doing? She couldn't remember...

Her dream world faded away, and blackness consumed her again.

* * *

 

Thorin was growing worried. Bombur had woken from his sleep almost a full day ago, though had remembered nothing of their quest at first, and still had a few missing memories. Yet Alana remained asleep, and were it not for the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest Thorin might have begun to believe she was dead. For four days they had travelled with their slumbering companions on their shoulders or cradled in their arms (as Alana was far lighter than Bombur, she only needed one dwarf to carry her), unable to remain by the river and unable to go on without them. While Bombur had mumbled and occasionally fidgeted, Alana remained as quiet and as still as stone.

They had all grown fuzzy-headed within the last day or two, or perhaps even more. Thorin found himself unable to focus on anything for too long, and it seemed his company suffered the same. As a result, they had unknowingly wandered from the elven path, and upon reaching a sheer cliff they had desperately tried to find it again, with no success.

Thorin, who had been the one to carry Alana most of the way, gently placed her on the ground, moving her hair off of her face. He ignored the bickering going on behind him as best he could, it being a familiar background noise by now, but then his head snapped up when his ears detected the soft sound of unfamiliar chitters from within the trees.

"What's that?" he asked himself quietly, before standing up. "Quiet!" he hissed. The company fell silent, growing tense when they too began to hear the strange noise coming from the high treetops. "We're being watched," Thorin realised with dread, quickly drawing his sword. The others followed suit. The imminent threat of danger cleared away the fuzziness of his head, the feeling of Mirkwood being pushed to the back of his mind. He stepped back slightly, so he was ahead of his nephews. His eyes swept their surroundings.

The dwarf King whirled around when a low grunt came from Oin's lips, and the old dwarf keeled over, slumping onto the ground. Within seconds a group of enormous spiders swarmed them, and while they were able to take out two of the beasts, their tired minds and underfed bodies meant their reactions weren't as fast as they would normally be. It wasn't long before Thorin was the last of them still to be standing, his eyes skirting around him as no less than eight spiders formed a tight circle around him and his unconscious companions. His eyes quickly darted to where he'd laid Alana, and he noted with a grimace that the corpse of a spider was now sprawled over her, keeping her almost completely hidden from view. Thorin spun when he heard a spider approaching him from behind, then jerked in surprise when he felt a stinger piercing the skin on his side. His mind instantly dulled, and, sword still held tightly in his grasp, Thorin stumbled forward a step. His legs failed, bringing him crashing down onto the forest floor, and he tumbled into a world of blackness.

* * *

 

When Alana woke up, she was admittedly startled when she opened her eyes and saw the open maw of an enormous, grotesque spider not half a foot from her face. With a wince, Alana managed to dislodge the spider with weak and wobbly limbs, letting it flop to the side while sucking in a large lungful of air, her chest no longer being compressed by the weight of a giant arachnid.

It took far too much effort to stand up, and she needed the additional support of the closest tree trunk to successfully get herself back on her feet. After shaking out her arms and legs, trying to get them to stop feeling so sluggish, she looked up and around her. _Well_ , she thought as she eyed the clearly very sick trees, _this definitely isn't the Shire_. If she didn't know better, she'd say she was in Mirkwood.

With a frown and a harsh shake of her head, Alana started into the trees, her hand moving to rest on the hilt of her sword. As she was walking she felt something cold brush against her neck, and paused. Her hands rose to her head, where she noted with surprise that she had five previously non-existent braids in her hair. She drew the four above her ears in front of her eyes, examining the metal beads on the ends.

"That's funny," she mused aloud. "These are dwarfish, I'm sure of it. But how...?"

Her fingers then tangled with the braid that was alone on the right side of her head. She noticed the bead had an engraving almost identical to one of the other beads, but that there were dwarfish letters carved underneath. Following some instinct she wasn't entirely sure of, her hand fell upon the tiny piece of loose material on the inside of her armoured vest. There, sat in the little make-shift pocket, was a similarly shaped bead made of wood. She slowly drew it out, realising with some surprise that she had carved her name into the bottom in elvish, and there was a dúnedain star above it. Despite not knowing its meaning, and not remembering ever carving it, she placed the bead back where it belonged and left her new, peculiar braids untouched.

Alana continued into the trees, growing ever more convinced that she was, indeed, in the woods of the elven King. That she couldn't remember how she'd gotten here bothered her far less than it should have done, but in this moment, her main focus was finding her way out. The Ranger paused mid-step when she heard the sound of alarmed voices, and after a moment of hesitation she decided to follow them. Travellers were few and far between in Mirkwood, so she was curious as to what they could be doing in the dark forest.

Shock overcame her when she heard a frantic shout of her name filling the air, and without thought her feet began moving at a greater pace, trying to close the gap between her and these people who – apparently – knew her. If she had agreed to travel with them, then surely she'd want to be with them again. Right? Certainly, that seemed to be the case of her heart, which was evidently trying to break out of her ribcage with worry. Worry for strangers, she noted idly. Though perhaps not strangers, but rather friends she had forgotten for some reason. Either way, she knew in her heart that she wanted to be back in their midst.

She followed the sounds of their cries, leaping over roots and darting around trees, for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes in actuality. It seemed that, even as she was moving towards them, they were being driven away from her. 

"Kili!"

Alana's heart flew up into her throat. She managed to push herself faster, drawing her sword and then leaping over the edge of a small incline. As she leapt, she caught sight of a brunette dwarf getting cornered by a huge spider not unlike the one she'd woken to. She caught hold of a branch above her head and swung herself around, landing heavily on the spider's head and plunging her sword down between her feet. The beast collapsed, allowing her to jump from on top of it, yanking Faradae free as she did. She then wiped the beast's blood from her blade on the corner of her cloak.

"Alana, thank Mahal!" The dwarf grinned at her, seeming incredibly relaxed in her presence.

She eyed him for a moment, before whipping around and raising her sword when she heard the quiet creaking of a bowstring being pulled back. A scowl immediately settled into her face. "Tauriel," she greeted coldly.

"Alana," came the equally cool reply. "Why does it not surprise me that you are with this group?"

"If I knew the answer to that, you probably wouldn't want me to share it," she bit back.

Tauriel narrowed her eyes, her grip on the arrow she had directed at the Ranger never faltering. "Why are you here?"

"I don't know."

Tauriel's lips curled back slightly. "Do not lie to me."

"I'm not lying. As far as I'm concerned, I should be in the Shire right now."

"The river," the dwarf – Kili, was it? – murmured. Both women sent him blank looks. "There was a black stream that we had to cross a few days ago. You and Bombur fell in. He woke this morning, but when he did he'd lost his memories of the past five months or so. I think that's what has happened to you as well."

Pursing her lips, she nodded in acceptance of his explanation (for it definitely seemed to make sense), and after sending another cautious glance at Tauriel, Alana finally sheathed her sword. "I've been travelling with you?" she asked.

Kili nodded, a hint of a smirk on his face. "Among other things, yeah."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" Alana didn't mean to get so defensive, but she didn't appreciate the teasing tone to his voice. 

He shrugged, grinning like a lunatic now. "That, **_irak'amad_** , is something you'll just have to remember."

Rolling her eyes and getting the distinct impression this was something she'd done many times before in the presence of this particular dwarf, Alana headed in the direction of other voices, Kili and Tauriel following behind her.

Surprise filtered into her stomach again when she and her little group came across the rest of the dwarves, who had been surrounded by the elven King's scouts. The tallest dwarf and the only blonde dwarf immediately perked up at their arrival, though their faces dropped when Kili swiftly told them something in the rough dwarfish language. The tall one, whom the mere sight of sent her heart pounding in her chest, let his stormy eyes run over her, no doubt looking for injury. Then their eyes met, and Alana realised for the first time just who this was – Thorin Oakenshield, leader of the dwarves in the Blue Mountains. What in Eru's name was he doing so far from his home, and in the presence of so many? More to the point, what was _she_ doing with him?

Nonetheless, as the elves hounded the dwarves for their weapons, Alana felt herself drifting closer and closer to the uncrowned dwarven King. When his sword was taken, Alana felt the strong desire to reach out and grab it back, or at the very least to shout at the one who'd taken it. She did neither, and instead pondered over the intense and perplexing instincts she got.

"What do you recall of our journey?"

Thorin's hushed voice came as something of a surprise, as was the genuine concern and affection in his eyes when he looked up at her. She blinked. "Nothing at all, I'm afraid," she replied honestly. "My last memory is of a patrol I ran back in the Shire. It was... I think it was early March, maybe late February."

Thorin let loose a long breath, a flash of deep sadness appearing in his eyes, before he stubbornly pushed it back. "Then you have forgotten much. Provided I have not lost track of time completely, it is currently within the first days of September."

Alana nodded slowly, trying to digest this. Memory loss turned out to be a peculiar thing – her mind had obviously forgotten everything, but based on the reaction of her body, her heart still remembered perfectly. "Do you think I will regain my memories of those lost months?" she asked. Obviously, without the memories, she was unaware of what she was missing, but the fact she had so much history with these people without remembering a single second of it was frustrating, to say the least.

Thorin glanced behind him at a rather rotund dwarf, who was staying stubbornly by the side of another with a large hat. "Bombur forgot our journey, too. He has since regained most of his memories. There is much hope for you."

Smiling slightly, Alana nodded. She blinked and grew immediately tense when Tauriel stopped in front of her, wearing her usual no-nonsense expression that Alana had come to truly despise seeing.

The red-head held out an expectant hand. " _Megilel. Ona ta a'amin. (Your sword. Give it to me.)_ "

Tilting her head to the side, Alana asked with suspicion, " _Am man theled? (For what purpose?)"_

Tauriel scowled. "You travel with these dwarves, and as one of their companions, you are to be treated as if you are one of them."

"And does that make me a threat and a prisoner?"

Tauriel huffed, finally letting her hand drop. "You are welcome to speak with the King on this matter if you wish. You are lucky that we know you here, or else I would not be so lenient. But keep your blade in its sheath. So much as reach for it and you will find yourself with arrows in your back. _Le rangwa? (Do you understand?)_ "

Alana bit back a snarl. "Of course, Lady Tauriel _._ "

Tauriel shot Alana a look filled with so much bitterness that a lesser woman might have quailed under its weight. But Alana simply glared in return, then dismissed Tauriel from her mind and removed her from her field of vision. In doing so, her gaze returned to the dwarf King beside her, who had been watching the interaction with keen interest and amusement. Alana rolled her eyes, wordlessly telling him not to comment, before the group were ushered forward by the elven guard.

They were pushed impatiently whenever they stepped so much as half a foot further behind the dwarf in front, and there were thrice as many elves hovering close to Alana, who was a greater threat since she was still armed. The Ranger hissed and cursed in her head the entire way. What made it worse was that she knew and had formed tentative friendships with many of the guards; friendships that were now most definitely void, she thought sullenly.

Alana barely looked up when they were dragged into the elven King's halls, knowing the entrance well enough to form a picture in her mind without needing to raise her head. She was pulled away from the group, along with Thorin, and she watched with a deep frown on her face as the rest of the dwarves were escorted towards what she knew to be the dungeons.

The Ranger was silent as she walked beside Thorin, taking note of his evident fury and tension. From what she could tell, he felt a great animosity towards Thranduil, one that was likely even more intense than her own disliking of the elf. She got the feeling the word _hate_ would be more appropriate for the exiled dwarf King.

As they walked, she lowered herself to Thorin's level and whispered softly in his ear. "I understand that you don't like him, but please, try not to get any of us killed, okay?"

Something about the request seemed to amuse him, because a wry smile stretched across his lips. "I will do my very best, Lady Ranger," he murmured in return, "but my temper is not my greatest strength."

Alana chuckled lowly. "For you and me both, Master Dwarf. For once, I think we might be a little too much for that pompous elf to handle."

Thorin sent her a smug smirk in reply, and with that, the two fell once more into silence.


	23. Ultimatum

Thranduil was the perfect picture of nonchalance. With one arm resting languidly on the edge of his throne, his legs half crossed, and the slouch of his back, one could almost imagine he was perfectly at ease. But his grip on the staff in his right hand was far too firm for that, and there was a tension to the lines of his face that belied the relaxation his body suggested. He hid it well, almost too well to be seen, but King Thranduil of Mirkwood was on high alert.

"Must it always be this way, dearest Nightshade?" The low pitch of his voice made Alana tense, because she knew this meant he was already aggravated, for one reason or another. That meant he was unlikely to be in a generous mood.

"Nightshade?" Thorin echoed.

Alana glanced at him in the corner of her eye, not fully pulling her eyes away from the elven King. "It was the name given to me by the people of Bree and the surrounding area. They give many Rangers names like that, as they too afraid of us to ask for our real ones." She turned her attention back to the elf. "Why is it that I was met with such hostility in the forest, when I have been granted permission to enter your kingdom whenever I wish?"

"It was my son who made that promise, not I," came the haughty reply. "While he has authority in this realm, his word does not hold the same power as mine, and as such, my orders supersede his."

Alana scowled. "Was it really necessary to have us arrested, though? What could we have possibly done? Is it a crime to be lost in the forest, to be hungry and thirsty and under threat from the darkness _you_ allowed to invade?"

"It is a crime to wander my realm without leave, and while your ties to the Lords and Ladies of the other elven realms may grant you a certain amount of freedom, it does nothing for your travelling companions. It is due to your presence here that those spiders came so close to my borders; after all the disturbances you have made I believe I have a right to know what brings you here."

Alana cocked her head to the side. "I don't know."

He bared his teeth at her. "My patience wears ever thinner, Lady Nightshade," he warned.

She rolled her eyes. "Were it that you paid the lands beyond these halls any attention, you would know I speak the truth. I can't remember a single moment between the end of winter and barely an hour ago, when I woke up with a spider's corpse on top of me." In the corner of her eye, Alana saw Thorin wince upon hearing that. "I have no knowledge of what I'm doing here. All I know is that I am tired, I feel like I haven't eaten or drunk anything in days, and I am  _not_  happy. So you shall have to find someone else to ask."

The King did exactly that, turning his attention to Thorin. "And will you claim likewise, Master Dwarf? Have you miraculously lost all of your memories of the last six months as well?"

"I have not," Thorin responded coldly. "And that you dismiss the truth so quickly does not make me particularly inclined to answer your question."

Thranduil arched one of his thick eyebrows. "You will do so if you wish to have any chance of being allowed free from this place."

Thorin sighed. "We are heading to the Iron Hills, to see my cousin."

"And why would such a venture require such... _varied_ companions?" It wasn't hard to notice the elf didn't believe a word of it.

Scowling, the dwarf sniped in return, "You seem to be unaware of the perils of the world. Even the Great East Road is not safe from orcs anymore."

"And why is it you have a Ranger with you?"

Thorin glanced at Alana, and she returned the look with one of genuine curiosity. She had no idea whether Thorin spoke the truth, or whether this was a cleverly fabricated lie to keep their true intentions hidden, but either way she wanted to know why she would join a company like his. At length, the dwarf spoke again. "Lady Alana stopped our company while we were still within the borders of the Shire. She herself was leaving on her own journey, but upon finding us she asked what our purpose was. After learning we were heading south, she–"

"South?" Thranduil challenged, huffing. "Are you not aware that the Iron Hills lie due east of your little mountain range, Thorin, son of Thrain?"

The blatant mockery and insult made Thorin grit his teeth, his eyes clearly intent on ending the elf's life. Unfortunately, it was not so simple that one could be killed with a glare. "A few of our number have relatives living in Dunland that they wished to visit. Our plan was to head there, and then for my company to part ways with Lady Alana, who intended to continue on through the Gap of Rohan, but in Dunland it was agreed that she would continue to travel with us, as she was hoping to see the Iron Hills for the first time."

"It is interesting," the King mused, "that despite all this you still managed to find time to stay in Rivendell. And that you decided to take the High Pass, which is many miles north of Dunland." He smirked. "I am not as blind to the outside world as you clearly think."

Thorin's glower deepened. "We would have had to venture north anyway, and we did not wish to have to travel south through the Gap of Rohan beforehand. The way across the Misty Mountains through Moria has been closed for decades, and the Redhorn Pass involves taking a route far higher in altitude than we were comfortable with."

"And Rivendell?"

"Like I said," Thorin grumbled, "even the Great East Road is not free of dangers these days. We were attacked by a pack of orcs and wargs as we went, and Lady Alana recommended Rivendell as a safe haven until the orcs lost interest in us and went elsewhere."

Thranduil leaned back into his throne, a contemplative expression on his face. "Lady Alana," he repeated softly. "It sounds as if you have grown fond of her, Master Oakenshield."

Thorin tensed almost immediately. "She is a good woman, and a fierce fighter." he responded with renewed caution. "And her mannerisms are not so different from those of our own kind. It was inevitable, in the end. Not a month ago we declared her dwarf-friend."

Thranduil hummed, a smirk forming on his lips. "Indeed?" He chuckled. "That is interesting, for sure, but I believe you have neglected to share something quite significant, Master Dwarf. I may not be well versed in the culture and traditions of the dwarves, for you are a secretive race, but I know enough to know that Lady Nightshade has a courtship braid in her hair." He glanced at the surprised Ranger, looking particularly smug. "To whom has she pledged herself?"

"I don't see how that is any of your business, Thranduil," Alana snarled, her face awash with a potent fury that Thorin had never seen in her before. She had been angry at him before, many times in fact, but he had never been on the receiving end of a rage quite as raw as this.

Thranduil arched an eyebrow. "You are being very defensive for someone who has no memories of such a thing."

"If I have indeed entered a courtship with one of the dwarves then it would have been for a very good reason," she snapped, eyes flashing. "I do not need to remember it to know that. But that doesn't make it any more your concern."

"You are in my kingdom now," Thranduil stated coldly. "As such, you are subject to my rule as King."

She growled at him. " _Lle naa Haran e' nausalle rië. (You are a King only in your imagination.)_ "

Her words came with such a bitter hatred that Thranduil looked genuinely taken aback for a moment, before the familiar heat of anger filled his eyes. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes dangerously at her. " _Avo thano rûth vi gûr alfirin, Deldúwath, (Do not kindle anger in an immortal heart, Nightshade,)_ " he warned. "We do not easily forgive nor forget those who have caused us insult."

"Good." Her still held a hint of the cold fury he had roused in her, though she seemed to have regained some control over herself. "I have no desire to be looked upon by you with any fondness, because, believe me, there is not so much as a speck in my heart that has any affection for you."

Thranduil scowled deeply, his mask well and truly forgotten now, before he turned to face Thorin once more. The dwarf King had a smirk of his face, amusement dancing in his eyes at how thoroughly Alana had managed to vex the elf. Thranduil looked between the two with cold eyes, before suddenly seeming to remove himself from the situation, his façade falling back into place. He waved an aloof hand. "Take them to the dungeons," he ordered lazily, two guards immediately stepping forward to restrain them. "It was an elaborate tale you managed to weave, Thorin Oakenshield, but I do not believe it for a moment. You will not leave these halls until you have learnt some sense and manners, and tell me why you are _really_ in the eastern half of the world."

* * *

 

Alana entered Fili's cell (which she was to share with him, apparently) without complaint, though it seemed none of the other dwarves were happy about the fact that she and Thorin had been locked up alongside them. They were spitting curses and insults at the elvish guards, both in the khuzdul and the common tongue, to no effect. Fili was tempted to join in, but he also knew it would be a waste of energy, so kept quiet and instead silently fumed, eyes blazing. The knowledge that the company were defending her so vehemently seemed to have some profound effect on Alana, because she made no effort to hide the flattered smile that flickered into place.

She turned to the dwarf in her cell and saw he was frowning contemplatively at her. "Is something wrong, Master Dwarf?" she asked.

"Fili," he told her with a sorrowful smile. "My name's Fili."

" _Indorá_ ," she murmured. "Do I call you that?"

He blinked at her. "Um... No. To be honest, it sounds like a girl's name." Alana paused, then chuckled, tilting her head to the side in silent agreement. "Why? What does it mean?"

She smiled at him. "It means 'Lionheart'."

"Oh." His face became awash with shock, before he shook his head and cleared his throat, returning her grin. "Well, you've never called me that before, but you did once tell me I had the heart of a lion." A mischievous expression crossed his face. "Could you tell me what _súyon_ means?"

Blinking, Alana tilted her head to the side in question. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You say it sometimes. Was just curious."

Her eyes narrowed. "To whom do I say it?" Her voice had a line of tension to it now, and Fili frowned in alarm at the sudden change.

"My brother, Kili."

"And do you have any other family with you, Fili?"

He shrugged, still trying to work out why she was suddenly so stiff. "Well, almost all of us are related in some way. Most directly would be Thorin, of course, who's my uncle."

Alana blew out a long, heavy breath, sliding down against the wall until she was sat on the floor. She seemed to steel herself for a moment, before lifting her head and asking, "So it's Thorin who gave me this?" She picked up her courting braid so he would know what she was talking about.

Fili nodded, still frowning. "Yes, but... Well, if you don't remember, how did you work it out?"

She smiled weakly. " _Súyon_ ," she stated simply. "It means 'nephew'."

" _Oh,_ " he breathed. Then he beamed at her. "Well, that's actually kind of a relief."

She blinked, utterly bewildered. "Why?"

"Kili's started calling you **_irak'amad_** now. I have too, to an extent. It's the khuzdul word for 'aunt'."

A crease formed between her brows, but then she let out a groan of frustration. "I cannot express in words how frustrating this is," she grumbled. "I have all this history with you, and I _know_  that I do because I can _feel_  it in my body, but my head's just not keeping up!" She sighed, letting her head fall back against the wall of their cell. "I had a dream," she admitted. "While I was unconscious."

"What was it about?"

"Minas Tirith." Her frown deepened. "It was a great battle. Thousands of orcs against thousands of men – men from Gondor and from Rohan. And an army of the dead – I can only imagine they were the Dead Men of Dunharrow. But _why?_  What were they doing there?"

Fili cocked his head slightly. "You do know this could have just been a dream, right?"

"It didn't feel like a dream," grumbled the Ranger sullenly. "There was a man there – a man who I thought was my father for a moment. But now I can't help but wonder... What if it was my brother? What if that's his future? From what little I know of them, the Oathbreakers would only obey the heir of Isildur – the man to whom they originally swore their oath." She sighed. "I don't want him to live to see such a sight."

"He's a good, strong lad," Fili reminded her. "And if he's anything like you, he'll get through it fine."

Tilting her head to the side, Alana asked, "Have you met him?"

Fili nodded. "Yes, we stopped in Rivendell for about two weeks."

Alana hummed. "Yes, Thranduil mentioned something about that. I wasn't sure we'd have stayed there long, though." The Ranger sighed again, getting to her feet and moving to the bars, leaning against the cold metal so Fili could no longer see her face. "This place is unaffected by the darkness in the forest," she mused. "Perhaps some of that will feed into me, and the darkness left over from the river will be lifted." She glanced back at him. "What do you think?"

Fili shrugged. "It's a possibility, I suppose, but Alana, you should not hope too much. We can remind you of everything you have forgotten, but–"

"But that is not the same as remembering!" She whirled around, her face pinching with sorrow and regret. "I mean..." She sighed. "What about Thorin?" Her voice was small now, perhaps to stop Thorin from hearing, or perhaps simply because that is how she felt – small, scared. "You may tell me I have begun courting him, and I may feel in my heart that I have grown to care deeply for him, but if I don't remember the moments we've shared, if I don't remember _why_  I fell in love with him... I can't do that to him, Fili. I can't. Because if I never remember, it'll be like it never happened for me."

Fili sighed softly, getting to his feet and moving to stand next to her, taking her hands in his. "You can always make new memories," he murmured. "You have your whole lives ahead of you. Years that you can spend together. Is losing six months really worth the loss of everything to come?"

Alana sighed, leaning her head against the bars again. She looked so lost and so young, and that was something he never thought he'd see. In a way, part of him was glad she didn't have some of her memories – she wouldn't have to remember what happened to her in Goblin Town. But she was right – they had all grown so close to her, and while she couldn't remember the foundations of those friendships there would always be a fissure between them. Because often, how these things began were the most important bits.

Fili flinched when Alana's grip on his hands suddenly became impossibly tight. He looked up and saw her face was pinched in what seemed to be pain, her eyes shut tight. "Alana?" Fili asked in concern, trying to assess what was wrong. Her skin had grown pale, and he could see a faint tremor in her body. She let out a gasp, her knees collapsing beneath her, and he was dragged down alongside her. Her eyes snapped open again, and from the way her mouth was gaping open he feared that she couldn't breathe properly. Fili's heart began to pound in his chest, and even as he watched there were tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. "Alana?" he asked again, pressing his hand against her cheek, but she jerked so violently in response that he immediately pulled back. "Alana, talk to me." He had hoped a more forceful tone would snap her out of... whatever this was, but it didn't.

She let out a whimper, her hands squeezing even tighter somehow, and then she dropped her head back against the wall again, her whole body starting to shake violently. Fili was at a loss, frozen in shock and fear, and not knowing what to do. Alana ripped her hands from his and pressed her palms against her temples, letting out a whimper, before the sound cracked and broke and morphed into a sob. Her face paled further, the tears fell faster, and then she startled him (and everyone else) by _screaming_.

"Alana!" Thorin's frantic call echoed around the dungeons, and probably halfway through the elven halls as well.

"It hurts," she muttered, tangling her hair between her fingers and pulling, clearly trying to distract herself. "It hurts. It hurts." She shuddered and screamed again, curling tighter into a ball. "Stop! Fili, please, make it stop! Thorin! Thorin, help!"

" _Alana!_ " 

"Alana," Fili muttered, hesitantly stretching out his arms again and placing them on her shoulders. She shook and shuddered, but didn't recoil this time. " ** _Imgilzu, (Calm down,)_** " he muttered, hoping against all odds that somehow a different tongue would register in her mind. " ** _Nusus mênu. (You are safe.)_** " He sighed when she just convulsed again, and so he moved to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to him. Without seeming to realise it, she curled into him, her hands gripping the front of his shirt, before she shook and released another choked sob. Fili could hear his heart pounding in his ears now, fearing what was happening to her, but he could do nothing else except hold her. He hated feeling so powerless, especially with someone he cared for so deeply, but he knew he would just have to deal with it. Because there was nothing he could do to help her. Not like this.

"Fili?" Thorin called, and the blonde shifted his head towards the noise, though he couldn't see his uncle. "What's happening?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I know she's in pain." As if to prove him right, Alana twitched again, a grimace flashing across her face. "She keeps holding her head, so I think that's what's hurting her." He winced when she whimpered again, weakly this time. "What do I do, uncle?" He didn't mean to ask it out loud, but he had no desire to take it back once the words escaped his lips.

Fili heard Thorin sigh. "I don't know, Fili," he replied, though everyone could tell how much it pained him to say that. "And even if I did, there probably isn't much we can do in these cells."

Fili was about to reply, when Alana's form suddenly went completely slack. Her grip on his shirt loosened, and every limb went floppy. She might have slipped away from him were it not that he was holding her so tightly. He wasn't sure whether the fact she'd passed out was a good thing – on the one hand, it meant she wasn't feeling the pain anymore, but on the other, chances were the reason she fell unconscious in the first place was _because_ of the pain.

Sighing, Fili readjusted his position so he was more comfortable, and upon noticing Alana was safely draped across him, he settled down for a long wait.


	24. Imprisonment

When Fili woke up the next morning – or was it perhaps still night? – Alana was no longer curled up against his side. Instead, she was leaning against the bars of their cage, a letter on the floor by her feet, and a piece of paper across her lap. She was concentrating on a reply.

"Who's that from?" he asked.

"A friend," she replied vaguely, moving the original letter out of his reach when he tried to grab it. She shot him a mildly reprimanding look and raised an eyebrow, before returning her attention to the letter she was writing.

Fili glanced out of the cell to see Bombur – who was in the cell directly opposite – was sill fast asleep, so he deduced it wasn't quite morning yet. "Alana?" She hummed in reply, not even glancing up at him. He frowned. "Are you alright?"

She blinked, lifting her head and frowning, before understanding seemed to wash over her. "Oh, yes, I'm fine. Barely more than a headache anymore."

"What happened?"

Smiling, she answered simply, "I remembered everything."

He raised his eyebrows. "Everything?"

She nodded. "Everything. I can imagine that's why it was so painful – every moment of the last six months was fighting for attention at once. At least with Bombur the memories came back slowly." She shrugged, then turned back to her letter.

"I suppose..."

Fili watched her for a while, not sure whether or not he should believe her words, because he knew she had a habit of down-playing things. Her face was still a little pale to his eyes, and though she said it was fine, he could tell her headache bothered her more than she let on, as she rubbed her temple every time she paused to read back what she'd written. Other than that, she _did_ look okay. And he was glad beyond belief to learn she had regained her memories. He only wished it hadn't been so painful for her.

"Shame on you, by the way."

Fili started, then frowned when he caught sight of her half-chastising, half-amused expression. It looked like she was trying very hard to fight a smile. "What for?"

"Making me tell you what I've been calling Kili while I was unable to recall that I had any intentions of not telling him in the first place." She tutted and shook her head. "You're a sly little dwarf, Fili."

"Little?!" he repeated incredulously.

Grinning, Alana flashed him a wink. "Well, you _are_ rather short..." He huffed, shooting her a mock-pout that drew a laugh from her lips, before she turned back to her writing with a grin.

"How come you got that letter, anyway? I'd have thought Thranduil would want to separate us from the outside world as much as possible."

She smirked. "And who said Thranduil knows about this letter at all?" Glancing up, Alana winked, before dropping her eyes again. "This was brought to me by Legolas, Thranduil's son. He and I have been friends for many years now, and he's not like his father."

Fili scoffed. "Oh yeah?"

Alana sighed patiently, putting down her letter and turning to him with a serious expression. "I know you feel a great animosity towards the elves, and I understand why. Your races have been feuding for generations. But Legolas is _not_ Thranduil."

"How can you be sure?"

She chuckled. "Spend five minutes in his presence and you'll understand. The two are like night and day; while Thranduil has a cold and dark heart, Legolas' is warm and light. And, incidentally, he told me he wishes his father hadn't locked us up. Not just me; all of us."

Fili raised an eyebrow. "Really?" His doubt was thick in his voice, though Alana didn't seem particularly upset by that. She knew the dwarves' distrust of elves wouldn't just disappear overnight.

"I believe his exact words were _'It doesn't_ –'"

"It doesn't matter whether you are an elf, a man, or a dwarf; home is home, and no one has any right to get in the way of you returning to it." Fili looked up at the new voice, finding an elf with hair as light as his father's standing outside their cell. Their eyes met for a moment, and the elf inclined his head towards Fili in polite acknowledgement, before he turned his attention to Alana. "Have you written a reply for me to send?"

Alana shook her head. "No, not yet. _Someone_ keeps interrupting me." She shot Fili a cheeky grin, and he rolled his eyes in response, before she picked up her letter and continued writing, her hand almost whizzing across the page.

"From where do you hail, Master Dwarf?"

Fili was surprised that the elf Prince was addressing him, but after a moment of hesitation, he decided to listen to Alana's words and give the elf the benefit of the doubt. For now. "The Blue Mountains."

The Prince – Legolas, was it? – raised his eyebrows. "You've travelled far. If I might ask... What is it like that far west? I have never travelled further than the elven halls of Rivendell."

With a look that was no less cautious than before, Fili slowly answered, "As you'd expect of a dwarfish kingdom, I suppose. That said, Ered Luin – that is what we call our home – has a stretch of forestland second in size only to Mirkwood itself. My great-uncle Thrain, and my uncle Thorin, were able to create a very prosperous settlement after Smaug took the Lonely Mountain."

"Fili," Alana said, eyes dancing with amusement, "that name you used, Ered Luin...?" He nodded slowly. She smiled. "It's Sindarin."

He blinked. "What?"

"You didn't know?" Legolas questioned in surprise. "Ered Luin is the Sindarin translation of the Blue Mountains."

Fili was unable to form a single coherent thought for a long time, before he shook his head. He turned back to Legolas. "Why the interest, anyway?"

"As I said, I have only ever travelled to other elvish lands. My father keeps me close at hand where possible – I do not often get the opportunity to travel." Legolas sat himself down on one of the steps closest to their cell. "Perhaps that is one of the reasons I befriended Alana so quickly."

She scoffed, not lifting her head from her paper. "Are you kidding? That was obviously a result of my winning personality."

"What winning personality?" Fili teased.

Her response came without so much as a bat of the eyelid. "Well, I won over your uncle, did I not?"

Fili opened his mouth to respond, but upon finding nothing to shoot that down, he snapped it shut loudly. Alana and Legolas chuckled at his expression, and Fili suddenly couldn't help but realise what a peculiar trio they were. An uncrowned dwarf Prince trying to reclaim his family's homeland, an exiled Princess with no single place to call her own, and an elf Prince whose home left him trapped. Alana had been right about one thing, though – Legolas wasn't so bad, in the end, though of course Fili still didn't trust him. He could understand what she meant about how different he was to his father, though; he wouldn't have thought the two were related at all were it not for how startlingly similar they were in appearance.

Fili found himself addressing the elf curiously. "What happened to Mirkwood? I can't imagine elves would settle in a place so... dark."

"It wasn't always this way," Legolas told him with a touch of sadness. "It used to be beautiful and fresh, with vibrant green leaves and many hundreds of species of animals living in the trees and undergrowth. Then something happened. A source of dark power made its home in the south of the forest. Almost two thousand years ago it came, and ever since the sickness that lies over the Greenwood has grown worse, and our attempts at clearing it became less and less successful as time went on. My father finally gave up on the forest about a century after the sickness first appeared, and instead focused on keeping our lands healthy. There was nothing else we could do for Eryn Galen."

"Greenwood the Great," Alana translated for the dwarf, though with a hint of absent-mindedness to her voice

"What do you think it is?" Fili asked curiously. "This 'dark power' you spoke of."

Legolas frowned. "I wish I knew," he admitted. "Word has spread of a creature they call a Necromancer, which dwells in the fortress of Dol Guldur. Whether this is the source of this darkness, I'm not sure. My father has dismissed it, though."

"Dol Guldur?" Alana repeated, frowning. Fili gazed at her curiously when she met his gaze. "Did Gandalf say where he was going before he left?"

"No," he answered. "Only that he was heading south."

"You don't think...?"

Fili shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "Gandalf is a wizard, and as such, his business is his own. But if this has been a problem for so long, why has no one done anything about it?"

"Mithrandir – Gandalf, as you call him – is a member of the White Council," Legolas said slowly, clearly thinking. "Any threat on the world has to be brought to the Council's attention, and there must be a unanimous agreement on a course of action. If not all members of the Council agree, then nothing will happen." His head suddenly whipped around, and he stood up, turning his suddenly alarmed eyes to Alana. "Are you done?"

"One second..." she murmured, signing her name and then folding the paper. "Thank you for doing this, _mellon nín_."

The elf Prince smiled as he took the letter, sent Fili another nod, and then disappeared from sight. Barely ten seconds later, one of the dungeon guards walked past their cell, glancing inside and no doubt ensuring they were still locked up.

Fili let out a sigh. "Okay," he muttered, and Alana turned to gaze curiously at him, "you were right. Maybe he's not so bad, after all."

* * *

 

Alana was going insane, she was sure. She didn't like staying in one place on a good day, but when that 'one place' gave her an unimpressive two square metres to explore, her restlessness became unbearable after just two days. For both her and Fili. Ten days later and she was ready to break some limbs just for the chance to get out. The thrice daily visits to the lavatory were most definitely not enough to keep her cabin fever at bay.

"Alana, _please_ stop doing that."

In a desperate attempt to just  _do_ _something_ , Alana had taken to pacing up and down the two metre length of the cell. Fili was sat leaning against the wall, equally as bored out of his mind as she, but her incessant pacing was beginning to grate on his nerves.

Letting out a frustrated whine, Alana did as asked and slumped against the wall, only a few feet from Fili. She picked up Thorin's braid and began playing with it, then glanced at him. "How can you bear this?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Clearly I'm just far more patient than you."

"Who would have thought it?" she grumbled. Groaning again, she let her head fall back against the wall of the cell. "Fili?"

"Yes?"

"If I go mad in here, promise me you won't tell my brother."

Fili chuckled. "You won't go mad."

"Feels like I'm going mad."

"And you know what it feels like, do you?"

"Well, I do now, yeah."

The two were quiet for a moment, before they simultaneously let out small, weak huffs of laughter. Fili reached over and affectionately patted her knee. "We'll get out of here, Alana."

"How can you be so sure about that?"

"Haven't you noticed?" Fili asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Alana sent him a blank look. He grinned. "Bilbo wasn't caught."

She gaped at him, eyes widening. "Wait, really?"

Fili nodded. "Really. I'm sure he's trying to find a way to get us out of here. You just need to have faith, **_irak'amad_**."

"Still insist on calling me that, huh?" she asked with a soft smile.

Fili shrugged. "Well, you _are_ my aunt, are you not?"

She shook her head. "I'm not married to Thorin yet, Fili."

" _Yet_ ," he repeated with a smug grin. "Besides, you're basically engaged, right? So we all know it's going to happen sooner or later. Might as well get used to it."

Alana frowned for a moment, looking at him as well as she could in the dark. To be honest, the fact she was courting Thorin (and thus on the road to being engaged) hadn't really sunk in yet. She adored Thorin, and would like nothing more than to become his wife, but it seemed like it was so far away still. They had to get out of these damn cells, and make it down to the Lonely Mountain before Durin's Day, and then they had to tackle the immense issue that was a fire-breathing dragon. Alana could only be grateful Smaug was much, _much_ smaller than other dragons – Ancalagon the Black being the most obvious example.

She glanced at Fili again, who was already watching her with an air of curiosity. "Do you wish I was a dwarf?" she asked without thought.

Fili blinked several times. "What?"

Alana shrugged. "I just wonder, that's all. Eru knows it would solve so many problems when we finally end this quest of ours."

Fili rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. You are who you are, and you can't change it. Neither would I want you to. I love you as I love my brother and my uncle, Alana, and I wouldn't want you to change. Besides, you act enough like us that you might as well be a dwarf anyway."

"But I'm still _not_ ," the Ranger said softly. "I'm a human being with no place to call home, and, as far as the world is concerned, I am the lowest of all commoners. People give the Rangers of the North horrible names because they fear us, because they think we're monsters that care for nothing and no one. I am of no significance, no importance. How could anyone possibly wish to have _me_ on the throne of the greatest dwarf kingdom in Middle Earth?"

"Alana," Fili said, quietly but firmly, and she met his gaze, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "It doesn't matter. Thorin is King of Erebor by right of blood, and he has chosen you to be his wife. We both know how stubborn he is. There isn't a soul alive who'd be able to stop him from making you his Queen."

She shook her head. "I wouldn't want to be a Queen if it would only cause people to hate me," she admitted quietly. "I love him, I really do. I love him more than I love anyone else in the world, but... I _couldn't_ deal with that."

"You won't need to," Fili stated calmly. "Because they'll grow to love you, just as we all have."

Alana stared at him for several seconds, chewing on her bottom lip, before she finally released a long, heavy breath. "Thank you, Fili. I hope you're right."

* * *

 

Probably only a few hours before dawn on their fourteenth day in the cells, their solitude was interrupted by the arrival of a group of four guards, all heavily armed, of course. They approached a cell not far from Alana and Fili's, and a moment later Thorin was pushed past them. Alana was on her feet in an instant, pressing herself against the bars.

"Where are you taking him?" she demanded hotly, only to receive no answer. The elves didn't even make any sign they had heard her, though Thorin tilted his head slightly and caught her eyes. Upon seeing him she realised just how deeply she had missed him, just how much her heart and body longed for him to be close by, and she found herself pressing harder against the bars. She snarled at the elves. " _Manke naa lle autien? (Where are you going?)_ " she asked again.

This time, one of the guards stopped and stared at her. This wasn't anyone she knew, of that she was certain, but the coldness in his eyes startled her nonetheless. What could she have done to earn such open hostility from a stranger? " _No dhínen, Taur'ohtar! (Be silent, Ranger!)_ " he snapped.

" _Pedin i phith in aníron, (I can say what I wish,)_ " she snarled in return. "Where are you taking him?"

One of the other guards, apparently tired of listening to their snapping, turned his head towards her and said in a dead voice, "We have been ordered to take him before the King."

"Now was that really so hard?" Alana asked with a condescending tone that, she noticed, caused Thorin to smirk. "Why?"

"That is between the dwarf and our King, and is certainly no business of yours."

Alana snorted, but upon meeting Thorin's eyes again, she let out a sigh. He nodded to her, gave her a tiny smile, then rolled his eyes when she mouthed 'Don't do anything stupid' to him. He mouthed in return, 'I make no promises', and for some reason that had a bright smile stretching across her face. He winked at her, before he was escorted out of sight.

It didn't take long before the sound of Thorin's raised voice met her ears, and she knew with absolute certainty that Thranduil, somehow, had discovered the true nature of their quest. With that in mind, and knowing him and she did, she could imagine that Thorin's anger was due to the elf King making some ridiculous attempt to trade something within Erebor for their freedom. Despite hating being in these cells, and wanting to get out with every inch of her being, Alana really hoped Thorin stuck to his stubborn roots and refused Thranduil anything.

When he was returned to the group, red-faced and fuming, he was pushed roughly back into his cell. A second later, the sound of a heavy, steel-capped boot kicking the wall could be heard. Alana smiled to herself.

"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin asked, clearly hoping the opposite to Alana.

"He did," Thorin answered, his rage still thickly coating his voice. "I told him he could go **_ishkh khakfe andu null_**. Him and all his kin!"

Behind her, Alana heard Fili snorting with barely contained laughter. She glanced behind him. "What does it mean?"

He shook his head, still grinning. "Trust me, Alana, you don't want to know."

Alana eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. "Thorin," she called. "What happened?"

A heavy sigh came from within his cell. "He demanded I give him the White Gems of Lasgalen in return for our freedom."

"And you denied him that?"

"Of course."

"Good." Everyone seemed startled by that, letting out noises of surprise, though Alana could also see it written on Bombur's face in the cell opposite.

Thorin also seemed not to have expected that answer. "I would have thought you'd be furious."

Alana shook her head, despite knowing he couldn't see her. "If you agreed to this, he would only use it as an excuse to always ask from you more than he deserves. You made the right choice, _meleth nín_ , even if it means we must stay here longer." She sighed. "By Eru, I can't _stand_ this place."

From somewhere beyond her sight, she heard Ori ask quietly, "We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?"

Then a new voice, one which was a source of hope for everyone, spoke from seemingly nowhere. "Not stuck in here, you're not!"

"Bilbo!"

The cry was echoed by every dwarf, though the hobbit was quick to hush them all, informing them there were still guards nearby, though out of sight for now. Upon being released from her cell, Alana crushed Bilbo into a brief hug, before heading over to Thorin, who had also been released, and smashing her mouth against his with all the force and passion she held within her. He released a small grunt, clearly not expecting it, but quickly and fervently began to return the kiss. They broke apart sooner than either wanted, but their situation was tense at best, and they didn't have time to linger.

Smiling and giving Kili a quick hug when he was finally let out of his cell (he was the last), Alana then followed Bilbo down towards the cellars. She had no idea what he planned, but he'd had two weeks to think of a way for them to escape, and she trusted him. The others, however, seemed a little less confident.

"I can't believe it, we're in the cellars!" Kili hissed, all but glaring Bilbo into an early grave.

"You're supposed to be leading us out, not further in!" Bofur griped, for once not wearing his usual happy grin.

Bilbo refrained from rolling his eyes. "I know what I'm doing," he snapped in return. "Please, just trust me."

Alana glanced around, noticing there were two elves nearby, out cold with two empty bottles of wine in between them. She faced Bilbo again. "What's the plan?" she asked, and everyone turned their eyes to him.

Swallowing back a wave of trepidation, Bilbo answered as firmly as he could, "Get in the barrels."

"Are you mad?!" Dwalin growled. "They'll find us."

"No, they won't, I promise you. Just... please... Please, you _must_ trust me."

Alana glanced at the dwarves, then back at Bilbo, and then with a shrug she headed towards the barrels, choosing the top one right at the end before grabbing onto the rim of the barrel and wiggling inside it. She could imagine these were okay for the dwarves, since they were shorter than she was, but Alana found it was quite difficult to curl herself into a small enough shape to fit. She heard the others following her example, grumbling as they did. Being that she was in one of the top barrels, she could see as Thorin paused in front of her. After sending her a look that she couldn't quite read, he disappeared from sight, no doubt ducking into one of the lower barrels.

"Now what?" Bofur asked.

"Hold your breath," Bilbo muttered, and in that moment,  Alana realised what his plan was. A grin crossed her lips, only to fall when she hurriedly grabbed hold of the side of the barrel as it began rolling out of the cellar. She screwed her eyes shut and sucked in a large lungful of air just before her barrel hit the freezing water.


	25. Laketown

Alana was dizzy and disorientated for a few seconds, before her barrel resurfaced and she popped her head out over the top, shaking her wet hair from her eyes. "Why did it have to be so cold?" she grumbled to herself, before she, with all the others, turned her eyes back towards the cellar door. Barely a moment later, Bilbo came tumbling into the river, though he was noticeably missing a barrel of his own.

From the front of the line, Thorin grinned at the little hobbit. "Well done, Master Baggins." He looked behind him, then gave his kin a nod. "Let's go."

He released his hold on the rock next to him, and within a second his barrel was caught up in the rapid flow of the river, the others quickly following behind. Alana glanced over her shoulder, sighing in relief when she saw Bilbo was clinging onto the side of Nori's barrel, and then turned back to the front. She gasped in a startled breath just before she was toppled over the edge of a small waterfall, her barrel becoming submerged for a moment before popping into the open air.

Her head whipped up when she heard the sound of an elvish horn, and she shouted to the front, "They've spotted us!"

And indeed, when they turned the corner and came across the river gate, there was an elf already pulling the lever. The gates snapped shut just before Thorin's barrel crashed into them, the dwarf King letting out a shout of frustration. The barrels clustered together, and the company watched the elves draw their swords with trepidation. Alana bared her teeth, body tensing on the off-chance the she would need to physically defend herself and the others, when suddenly one of the elves went rigid. There was a moment of absolute stillness, before the elf tumbled into the river, an arrow revealed to be protruding from his back.

"Orcs!" Bofur shouted, and Alana cursed under her breath.

The orcs came in force, leaping over the elven gates with their crude swords in hand. At their lead was a pale orc that bore a peculiar resemblance to Azog, though it obviously wasn't him.

Alana yelped when an orc jumped at her, grabbing hold of her hair and tipping over her barrel, pulling them both into the river.

She snarled at the orc under the water, wrapping her legs around it and then yanking a knife free from its armour. She plunged the blade into the orc's neck, and in an instant the water around her became saturated with slimy, black blood.

Alana kicked to the surface and had just managed to crawl onto the shore when she was attacked again. Luckily, she was in such a position that it was only a small matter for her to throw her arm to the side and stab her borrowed blade through the orc's skull.

" _Kili!_ "

Snapping her head to the left, Alana watched Kili lunge for the shore, heading for the lever keeping the company trapped. With a curse the Ranger jumped to her feet, slicing through the stomach of another orc and then picking up its dropped sword. It was badly balanced and awkward to hold, but was still favourable to a dagger. She raced after Kili, cutting down the orcs that ran after him, though she had no way to defend him from those ahead. Kili managed fine though, and he quickly reached the lever. He extended an arm, but before he could open the gate an arrow came soaring through the air and impaled itself in his left thigh.

"KILI!"

Fili and Alana's shouts echoed through the air over the noise of battle and chaos, and with renewed vigour Alana fought her way towards the dwarf she – at this point – considered to be family. Kili managed to crawl his way to the lever, using his weight to pull it down, opening the gates for his kin.

"You idiot!" Alana snapped, stopping beside him and quickly checking his wound. When she saw the black feathers of the arrow, and the black gunge tinting his open wound, she swore with such colour that Kili stared at her with wide, shocked eyes. She grabbed the dwarf under the arms and pulled him towards the edge of the platform, where Fili was waiting with an empty barrel. It was the only one left, so Alana knew she'd have to remain on foot from here on out. "Make sure you tell Oin to get some kingsfoil when you reach the shore," she whispered in Kili's ear. "And don't do anything strenuous until I get back. Promise me, Kili."

"Alana, I'm fi–"

"Promise me," she repeated, then ducked as another arrow headed their way.

Kili grumbled. "Promise. Kingsfoil, right?"

Alana nodded, then helped him to drop into the barrel below, wincing as the arrow shaft snapped on impact. She then grabbed the blade of a fallen elf guard, finding it to be far better than the orc one she'd held, before chasing the dwarves downstream, cutting down any orc she could in the process. Due to the multitude of waterfalls and tight bends in the river, she was able to keep up for quite some time, marvelling at the effortlessness with which the dwarves worked together to defeat their opponents.

She stopped alongside Legolas, surprised to have just witnessed Thorin give up his only weapon to save the elf Prince's life. Thorin met her eyes and she nodded to him, receiving a nod in return, before the dwarves drifted out of sight.

"You're not going to arrest me again, are you?" Alana asked her friend.

Legolas chuckled. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response, _mellon_ _nín_." He glanced at her. "Are you hurt?"

Alana shook her head. "I'm fine. It's Kili I'm worried about. He was shot by a what I believe to be a morgul arrow." Alana twisted the Arodroch ring she still had on her finger, the only outward sign she made of her anxiety, though the sharp-eyed elf Prince caught it nonetheless.

Knowing that she would not appreciate him bringing it up, Legolas instead asked, "A morgul shaft? Are you sure?" There was a wary dread to his voice.

"Not completely," she admitted. "But I know enough to be fairly confident." She frowned. "But I thought morgul weapons were wielded by–"

"They were," he cut in, his tone cold and sharp. "If such a weapon has, in fact, been used, then I fear there may be many dark days to come."

Alana sighed, and turned back to Legolas and clapped him on the shoulder. "It was good to see you again, Legolas, despite the circumstances. And I look forward to our next meeting."

Legolas smiled and bowed his head, pressing his hand over his heart. " _Aa' menealle nauva calen ar' malta. (May your ways be green and golden.)_ "

" _Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva, (Sweet water and light laughter until next we meet,)_ " she said in response, before she smirked at him and turned away, disappearing into the trees running alongside the river.

She knew she had to catch up with the company soon, or their quest would end. Thorin had, after all, given her the map and key to look after, and without either, their way into the mountain would be barred forever.

* * *

 

"Anything behind us?" Thorin called, glancing over his shoulder to see that every member of his company, except Alana, was there.

Balin reported from the back, "Not that I can see."

"I think we've outrun the orcs," Bofur called, their less-than-favourable escape doing nothing to affect his optimistic demeanour.

"Not for long; we've lost the current."

Thorin sighed as they slowly paddled their way towards the shore. He was sure all of them were as tired and wet and hungry and miserable as he, but Thorin had the added weight of guilt and worry, as they had travelled many miles further downstream than Alana. She would be forced to make the rest of the journey on foot, and would need to maintain a considerable speed if she were to avoid the orcs no doubt still chasing them. And that wasn't his only concern; he didn't want to think about what would happen if she didn't make it in time for Durin's Day.

"Kili's wounded." Fili's voice came from his right, sounding terse and worried. "His leg needs binding."

"Wait," Kili cut in, his voice thick as he no doubt tried to hide his pain. "Alana told me to tell Oin about something. It was..." He winced, clearly trying to remember. "I think she said... kingsfoil...?"

Oin immediately cursed up a storm, appearing next to Kili in a flash and peering closer at his wound.

"Oin?" Thorin asked, concerned. "What is it? What is kingsfoil?"

"It's a weed," the healer replied. "Useless to most, but in Rivendell I learned it has healing powers of great significance. They can only be unlocked, however, by a select few of the Rangers of the north, and the elves themselves. If this wound needs that particular plant, it means Kili was struck by a poisoned arrow." He frowned. "We shall have to find some soon. I can keep the lad's temperature down, I should think, and perhaps dull some of the pain, but no more than that. We must wait for the lass's return if Kili is to be fully healed."

Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before nodding. "Bind his leg," he ordered. "You have two minutes, and then we must leave."

"It could make his leg worse–"

"We have no time to delay," Thorin cut in, though it pained him to do so. "We still have an orc pack on our tail. We must keep moving."

"To where?" Balin asked.

"Well, the mountain," Bilbo pointed out, frowning. "I mean... We're so close."

"A lake lies between us and that mountain," Balin pointed out. "And we have no way of crossing it."

Bilbo huffed. "So then we go around."

"We'll be cut down by the orcs, sure as daylight," Dwalin muttered, shaking his head. "And we have no weapons to defend ourselves."

Thorin sighed again. "We must travel to Esgaroth," he decided. "It is safe enough that we can hide from the orcs, and we can restock our supplies there. If we wait a few days, then there is also a chance that Alana may be able to catch up with us."

"So how do we cross the lake?"

A startled yelp had them all whipping around, only to find Ori had an arrow pointed at him, the owner of said arrow being a tall figure shrouded in shadow. Kili tried to stand up to help, but then let out a groan and collapsed again, his leg giving out beneath him. Dwalin jumped in next, bearing a rock in his hand, but the stranger fired the arrow and knocked the stone out of his hand.

"Do it again, and you're dead."

The voice was gruff, and bore a heaviness that often accompanied exhaustion, but was nonetheless firm and strong, and commanded the same level of respect that Thorin's did. This, along with the threat of being killed, was enough to make the dwarves fall silent for a moment.

Then Balin, with tentative steps and his hands raised in a placating matter, addressed the man. "Excuse me, but, uh... You're from Laketown, are you not?" The man slowly lowered his bow, only the furrow of his brow visible with the setting sun behind him casting his face in darkness. "That barge over there," the old dwarf continued, "I don't suppose it would be available for hire, would it?"

* * *

 

Alana raced through the forest for the second day, her pace as quick as she could manage without getting exhausted by the long distance she had travelled and had yet to travel, and she presently began to notice that night was falling. With no food, she had nothing to stop and cook to eat, and so she continued moving until she lost all light, as she had done the night before.

It was only then that she paused, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath, before she looked around her. The trees overhead were tall and strong, with thick – though bare – branches. Alana headed to the tallest and strongest in her vicinity, jumping up to grab the lowest branch, and then forcing her tired limbs to pull her up. Once that was achieved she scaled higher, so she could still clearly see the ground but was hidden enough that she was unlikely to be seen by anything or anyone that ventured below.

Despite her exhaustion, Alana couldn't find it in her to fall asleep. Every sense was on high alert, and she jumped every time she heard the screech of an owl or the rustle of the tree leaves above her head. She remained awake for at least four hours as the dark deepened, eyes scanning the surrounding area with a vigilance that never waned, and as the moon reached its peak in the sky she became aware of the sound of hooves. She slowly sat up, then brought her feet up to balance on her branch so she had both her hands free. One fell to the hilt of her borrowed sword, whole body tense.

She waited no longer than a minute before the source of the sound cantered into view, and Alana couldn't believe her eyes. How was it that, after so many miles and after so long, Firebrand could still find her so quickly? How was it he knew she was in need of his presence? Her eyes fell to the ring on her finger, distinctly remembering the way she had twisted it while by the river the day of their escape. Was that why? Did the ring somehow let the mearas know when they were needed?

Whatever it was, Alana couldn't have been more grateful for the timely arrival of her animal friend. She tucked the sword into her belt, quickly moving to descend from the tree. Firebrand was stood waiting for her when her feet finally meet the solid earth again, and with a brief, thankful pat on the side of his neck, Alana swung herself onto his back. Without needing to be told, Firebrand surged forward, dancing around the trees with effortless ease, while Alana leant with her head bowed towards his neck so she wouldn't be caught by any of the low-hanging branches.

It was less than an hour before they broke free of the forest, though Firebrand neither stopped nor slowed, continuing onwards around the northern border of the Long Lake. At the bridge to Laketown Alana urged Firebrand to stop, dismounting and giving him a loving pat on the nose.

" _Hannon le, Ylfruin, (Thank you, Firebrand,)_ " she whispered. Firebrand snorted, ducking his head and pressing it firmly against her chest. Alana chuckled. " _Hodo, mellon nín. Agóreg vê. Sí hodo. (Rest, my friend. You did well. Now rest.)_ "

Firebrand whickered, nibbled on her hair affectionately, then turned and walked away, leaving Alana alone on the bank of the lake. Sucking in a long breath, Alana drew up her hood and wrapped her cloak around her, knowing she would have greater luck making it through Laketown unchallenged if they were unaware she was a woman. And indeed, upon meeting the guards at the bridge, it took no more than a single look for them to step back and let her pass, pushing themselves as far from her as possible. Alana released a small sigh. Even in the east of the world, the Rangers were not trusted. She could at least be grateful that they did not wish to stop her. 

Alana meandered slowly through the town, wondering where it would be that she'd come across her companions. As she walked people shot her dirty looks, jumping out of her path whenever they got too close. All except for one boy, for whom his curiosity seemed too great to fight. He looked to be on the cusp of manhood, maybe sixteen years old, with thick, dark hair and tatty but warm-looking clothes. Alana paused when he approached her, part of her actually relieved that she didn't immediately repel _everyone_ of her kind.

"Excuse me, sir, but where have you come from?" Alana smiled, raising an eyebrow and then shifting her hood just a little, so he could see that she was, in fact, female. His jaw fell and his cheeks flushed. "Oh, miss, I'm sorry, I–"

"It's okay," she assured him. "It was my intention to appear as a man, and it's relieving to see it worked. As for your question, I come from a small village near the North Downs, in Eriador. Almost a whole world away, it feels."

The boy smiled. "We don't get many travellers here," he told her. "And yet lately it seems we've had so many."

Alana tilted her head to the side. "Is that so?"

He nodded. "A company of dwarves arrived yesterday morning. They're with the Master now, feasting."

Alana chuckled. "Oh, that'll please them."

The boy blinked. "Do you know them, miss?"

"Indeed I do. I have travelled with them since April, and we have faced many trials together." She smiled at him. "Thank you for the information."

"Bain," he supplied with a smile, "son of Bard, my lady."

Alana chuckled. "I am no Lady, Master Bain, though I appreciate the acknowledgement." She bowed her head. "Alana, daughter of Arathorn, at your service. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

With another brief smile, she left the boy alone, heading towards the largest house in the town, which would undoubtedly be the place of residence for the Master of Laketown. It became achingly apparent this was her destination when she heard the loud revelry of the dwarves echoing out over the town.

She approached the door, and was almost instantly stopped by a guard. "You have no permission to enter that hall, Ranger," he spat at her. "Leave now, and rid us of your vile presence."

Alana smiled wanly. "I think you'll find that I am, in fact, _expected_ in that hall. And I'll thank you not to bar the way between myself and my friends."

"Do you really think–?"

Before he could finish the sentence, Alana had whipped out her borrowed sword, pressing it firmly against his jugular. "That was a warning, not a suggestion. Get out of my way, or I will water the ground with your blood."  The sudden surge of anger confused her in a small part of her mind, but then she pushed that confusion aside; after all, this was most likely the fastest way to get past him.

The guard scowled at her, but relented, knowing there was no way he could grab his sword to defend himself before she made the move to kill him. Alana smiled is a mocking and sickly-sweet manner as she passed, heading up to the hall and pushing the double doors open with a single shove. They creaked and groaned, and one seem to sag as it swung back, and the noise drew every eye her way.

In an instant the dwarves' faces lit up, but before any of them could say or do anything, a man in dark clothing jumped to his feet.

"Who are you to dare interrupt this feast, which has been held in honour of the return of _royalty_?!" He spat at the floor, and when Alana saw Thorin about to rise, she gave him a quick glance that told him not to. Mischief shone in her eyes, and she predicted this man was about to get himself into a tight spot.

Which was something she knew she was going to very thoroughly enjoy.

She returned the man's gaze, and arched an eyebrow. "I am a Ranger of the north, my good sir."

"Filth!" The other man, who was larger and wore more gaudy clothing, and who was also balding, clambered to his feet. "Remove yourself from these premises, and from this town! We will not have your kind here."

Alana tilted her head to the side. "I am here because my companions are here," she told him calmly, trying to fight the smirk that wanted to show. She wasn't sure she was entirely successful, though neither of the men seemed to notice. "I will not leave without them, and as long as they stay, so shall I."

"Then you must order your companions to leave with you!" the Master snapped. "And with that I say, ' _Good riddance!_ '."

Clearly deciding enough was enough, Thorin rose to his feet and inclined his head to the Master. "It would seem then that we are no longer welcome here. We shall make ourselves scarce, as you wish." With those words the rest of the company stood, preparing to leave. Thorin caught Alana's eyes and winked.

"W-Wait!" the Master stuttered, clearly shocked. "Of what do you speak, my Lord Thorin?"

Thorin gave him a haughty look. "You have made it quite clear that the Ranger is not welcome here, and as her companions, we shall not allow her to be parted from us again."

The Master gaped. " _S-She_ is your companion? A Ranger?"

"Actually," Fili piped up, arms crossed over his chest and a great smirk on his lips, "she is far more than that. Lady Alana is our future Queen."

Thorin sent his nephew a tiny grin, which the blonde returned, and then turned back to the Master. "We shall take our leave now." Then his face hardened, and his tone became darker. "And in future, I will not be so calm if you dare to insult my betrothed in such a way again."

The Master spluttered, but then managed to gain some modicum of composure. "Forgive me, my lords, my... lady." He spat the word as if it were a bitter lemon, but Alana had to commend him for at least trying. "Of course you are all welcome to stay, as planned."

"Perhaps," Thorin stated, that coldness remaining in his tone, "but your welcome has become stale, and as such, is no longer desired. We thank you for what little hospitality we have so far received from you and yours, but I think we shall return to our lodgings." With a final tilt of his head, Thorin then led the way from the hall, the dwarves trailing after him and simultaneously greeting Alana with smiles and hugs.

When Alana spoke to Oin, he pressed a handful of green leaves into her hands, little white flowers dotting some of the stems. She smiled and patted his shoulder. "Thank you, my friend."

Oin nodded and offered a tentative smile. "We have been offered a house to stay for a while," he told her. "We'll prepare somewhere for you to work. I do hope you can help the lad, though. He's getting worse."

Alana bit her lip and nodded. "I will do what I can," she promised. "But while I may have elvish blood in my veins, there may not be enough of it to harness the power of the _athelas_ leaf to its full potential. And I will need to, if Kili is to be completely cured." She sucked in a shaky breath. "I suppose we shall just have to pray it is enough."

"I have faith in you, lassie," he murmured, clapping her on the shoulder. "We all do."

"Thank you, my friend." She offered him a smile, and with a final tilt of his head, the dwarf healer fell back to walk with his brother.

" ** _Âkminrûk zu_** ," Kili piped up, appearing beside her and obviously trying to hide the fact he was limping. "It means 'thank you' in khuzdul."

Alana blinked at him, words failing her for a moment. "Are you sure you should be telling me that?" she asked quietly.

He rolled his eyes. "As Fili just pointed out, you're going to become our Queen one day. I think it's a good idea that you learn at least some basic khuzdul."

Alana bit her lip, glancing around at the other dwarves, before letting out a breath. "What was it?"

He smiled and repeated, " ** _Âkminrûk zu_**."

Alana mouthed it to herself a few times, frowning as she tested out the shaping of the words, before hesitantly trying it out loud. " ** _Âkminrûk... zu_**?"

Kili grinned and nodded. "You got it."

"Thank you," she muttered under her breath, then smiled and nodded. "I shall endeavour to remember that."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't mind reminding you, if I have to." He glanced at her in the corner of his eyes, and his face suddenly bore a frown. "Alana, can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask, but I can't guarantee you'll get an answer."

Kili huffed, rolling his eyes. "That elf in Mirkwood, the one who found us in the forest... Why do you hate her so much?"

Alana blinked. "You mean Tauriel?"

Kili nodded. "She spoke to me a few times, in the cells. She seemed nice enough. And she's a warrior, like you. I would have thought you'd be great friends."

"'Nice enough'," she mimicked. "That's one hell of a compliment coming from a dwarf. You're not falling in love with her, are you?" Alana teased, laughing when Kili scrunched up his nose in distaste. Then the Ranger hummed thoughtfully, and admitted, "Under different circumstances, I think Tauriel and I would be good friends, yes."

"Then why?"

With a gentle sigh, Alana explained. "I'm sure you noticed the way the Prince looks at her...?" Confused, Kili nodded. "At this point, I don't think there anyone who hasn't. And I know Tauriel certainly has." Alana frowned, trying to put her thoughts into words. "The thing is... she may show it, but she hasn't _told_ him that his feelings aren't reciprocated, nor that they probably never will be. And as long as she maintains her silence, he won't know. The longer she waits, the more it'll hurt him when the truth comes to the light. I don't hate her. I respect her far too much for that, but... I don't like that she's hurting my friend."

Kili tilted his head to the side. "Have you told her this?"

Alana shook her head. "No, I haven't. Part of me thinks this is something she has to figure out for herself – she has to realise the amount of pain she's going to cause him if she never says anything."

"And the other part?"

"Doesn't want me to stick my nose in other people's business. What happens between them is not something I should interfere with." Kili nodded in understanding, a thoughtful expression on his face. She smiled fondly in his direction, then gave him a quick once-over. "How's your leg? And don't lie – tell me honestly."

He sighed, glancing around and then lowering his voice, doubtlessly not wishing anyone else to hear. "It hurts," he admitted. "It feels like my whole leg is on fire."

Nodding, Alana glanced at the _athelas_ in her hand. "Well," she murmured, "these will definitely help. And hopefully I can heal you properly."

"Oin said you think it's poisoned," Kili muttered with a deep-set frown. "What poison is it?"

Alana glanced at him and then shook her head. "It's best if you don't know, _súyon_. I myself am not completely sure." She smiled. "Either way, the kingsfoil should do the trick, once we get inside."

Kili groaned softly. "Are you ever going to tell me what _súyon_ means?"

"Why don't you ask your brother?" she shot back.

Kili blinked. "He knows?"

She chuckled. "He wheedled it out of me before I got my memories back in Mirkwood," she admitted. "And he... he also told me what **_irak'amad_** means."

"Oh." Kili glanced at Fili, who was a few places ahead, talking quietly with Thorin. "Are you okay with me calling you that?"

Alana chuckled quietly. "Find out what _súyon_ means, and you will have your answer."

Grumbling under his breath, Kili asked, "And I don't suppose you'll just make it easy for me and tell me yourself?"

Sending him a disbelieving look that was perhaps a little over-exaggerated, Alana declared, "Why, Kili, it's like you don't know me at all!"

Kili laughed and grinned at her, before hugging her awkwardly with one arm. "It's good to have you back, Alana. We were worried about you after we were separated at the river."

Scoffing, the Ranger shook her head. "I appreciate the thought, but you should know better than that, Kee." She winked at him, and then the two continued on in a companionable silence.


	26. Days of Rest

The company set about clearing a space for Kili's healing, while Alana grabbed a wooden mortar and pestle from a shelf and quickly began mashing the _athelas_ leaves, pacing up and down the room as she did. Her brows were creased with worry, and every time she glanced at Kili she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if this didn't work. She knew a few healing chants that Lord Elrond frequently used, and two in particular seemed relevant to this situation, but what if she wasn't able to fully heal him? Having morgul poison in his blood meant this was no ordinary wound... On any other day she would definitely say a full-blooded elf would be better. But there was no elf close enough, and she knew she could at least begin to help with Kili's healing. Perhaps, if it didn't work straight away, she could try again later, and again, and again, and maybe then she would slowly be able to work the poison from his blood.

But what if she _couldn't_?

She loved Kili like he was her own flesh and blood, and it would destroy her to lose him. She knew it would be ten times worse for Fili and Thorin, who were his actual family and who had been there every moment of his life. How could she possibly look them in the eyes again if she failed to save him?

"Alana."

She blinked, realising she had stopped pacing, had stopped moving altogether, and was instead staring sightlessly ahead of her. She looked down, finding Thorin standing in front of her, his hand gently encompassing hers as she gripped onto the mortar as if it were her lifeline.

"What is it, **_atamanel_**?"

She glanced behind her again, meeting Fili's gaze as he sat by Kili, who was now lying on a table, his face locked in a permanent grimace. "What if this doesn't work?" she whispered, her voice cracking at the mere thought. "What if–?"

"It will," Thorin stated with confidence. "You will heal him. It will work." He lifted his hand to her cheek, and she couldn't stop herself leaning into his touch, closing her eyes and simply allowing herself to wallow in the comfort he offered. "I have faith in you, **_amrâlimê_**."

She smiled and lazily peeled her eyes open. "What does that mean?"

His return smile mirrored hers, his eyes to crinkling at the sides. "I think you know." He stepped back, tilting his head to the side, and after inhaling a steadying breath, Alana turned back to the situation at hand.

She approached Kili, placing the mortar on the table next to him. Taking his face between her hands, she made sure his attention was on her. "This will hurt," she told him with as soft a voice as she could manage. "But it will help, I promise. Do you trust me?"

He smiled at her as if she had grown another head. "What are you talking about? Of course I do."

She nodded, before turning to Fili and Dwalin with a stern expression. "Hold him down. Don't let him move – believe me, he will try." She glanced at the others. "I need you to stay close, just in case they need help."

She waved Thorin over and instructed him to hold down Kili's leg, before she stepped back and picked up the mortar. She scooped the mashed leaves into her hands, rubbing them together until they made a thick paste. Alana met Thorin's gaze once more, and returned his nod, before sucking in a sharp breath and pressing the leaves against Kili's wound.

Almost immediately he jerked, a loud cry escaping his lips, and Dori leapt forward to help Dwalin and Thorin hold his legs still, while Fili kept a vice-like grip on Kili's torso and arms. Alana winced, feeling tears gather in the corners of her eyes as she listened to Kili's screams, knowing that she was the cause of his pain, but she grit her teeth and ignored it as best as she could.

Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and started muttering a combination of the two healing chants she had chosen.

" _Anor valthen, togo laugas lín nestad enin gûr hen. Ceven dhaer, anno vellas_   _lín enin 'raw hen._   _(Golden sun, may your warmth bring healing to this heart. Great Earth, may you give your strength to this body.)_ "

She felt something stirring in her as she spoke, felt a peculiar warmth in her fingertips, but she kept her eyes closed and repeated the healing chants twice more, hearing Kili's cries and moans dwindling and eventually coming to a stop. Once she'd recited the chants three times, Alana slowly released the pressure she kept on Kili's leg, opening her eyes and stepping back. Becoming aware quite suddenly of the moistness on her cheeks, she lifted a hand and realised that she had tears streaming from her eyes. Slowly, she glanced at Kili. He was breathing heavily, his brow covered in sweat, but his face was clear of any signs of pain. And indeed, when she looked at his leg, there was no longer any sign of the poison in his blood, no black veins under his skin.

A near-hysterical laugh shot from her lips, and Alana sagged to the floor with relief, a disbelieving smile lighting her face. She sobbed happily, burying her face in her hands, her entire body shaking from a surplus of adrenaline that she hadn't even noticed had gathered.

A warm, familiar hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she lifted her head to meet Thorin's beaming smile, both of them ignoring the fact that he too had tears in his eyes.

Thorin took her face in his hands, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers, and breathed out a shaky, "Thank you."

She beamed, capturing his face in her hands before drawing his lips down to hers, kissing him with all her strength, pouring her love and devotion and relief and joy into the kiss. His hands buried themselves in her hair as he returned it with just as much feeling, neither of them caring that she was covered in dirt from her travels, nor that he tasted of cheap whiskey, nor that they had an audience. The weight of everything that had happened in the last two weeks hit them with all the force of a raging dragon, and through this kiss they let themselves forget it all, focusing only on the present, and the ever brightening future.

* * *

 

Morning came, the sun casting beautiful hues of yellow and orange across the lake, but none of the company were there to greet it. After the chaos of the previous few days – with their journey down the forest river, their days of travel, the rather disastrous feast, Alana's return, and Kili's healing – the dwarves, Bilbo, and Alana were all exhausted. They'd each fallen into deep sleep no less than half an hour after Kili's leg had been wrapped and bandaged, and with no pressure on them to leave Laketown just yet, they all had every intention of sleeping in as long as they could.

When Thorin made his way down the stairs, around mid-morning, he was greeted only by Alana and Balin, who had previously been talking quietly with one another. When Balin had left to wake his brother up, Alana had pulled Thorin aside and presented him with her finished, wooden bead. As the sons of Fundin came down again, Alana was just finishing off the braid she had weaved into Thorin's hair. The two older warriors sent them identical smiles of approval, before the four friends settled into companionable conversation.

It was almost noon by the time the last of the group crawled their way out of bed, none of them surprised that it was Kili. He seemed much healthier already, his face awash with his usual colour, and though he still walked with a slight limp, his leg clearly no longer bothered him as much as it had. He decided not to protest when Alana insisted that she change his bandages and leave a fresh layer of crushed _athelas_ leaves on his wound.

Upon being informed by their company hobbit that they had missed his birthday by a mere two days, the dwarves and Alana insisted on celebrating. Thorin returned to the Master, who had apparently all but fallen to his knees to beg for forgiveness for his actions the night before, and had agreed to send over many bottles of alcohol to the house so they could celebrate Master Bilbo's 51st birthday.

By the time evening came around once more, everyone was happily buzzed (or utterly smashed, like Bofur and Nori, both of whom were passed out under the dining table and snoring loudly). Thorin had dragged Alana down to share a chair with him around mid-afternoon, and she'd been nestled against him ever since, the two of them sharing a bottle of somewhat mediocre wine.

"Hey, Alana!" Kili called with a slur from the other end of the room, leaning against his brother's leg, who himself was perched on the windowsill. "When's your birthday?"

Alana chuckled. "Why do you ask?"

Kili shrugged. "I guess 'cause I know everyone else's. I even know your brothers. So when's yours?"

With a somewhat perplexed smile, Alana replied, "It's November 23rd."

"Only two months away!" the young Durin realised with a broad beam. "And after Durin's Day, which means we'll have the mountain back by then! Your first birthday in a new home." He grinned at her, then let out a yelp when Fili moved his leg, and the brunette went tumbling to the ground.

With a scowl on his face, Kili put down his tankard of cold ale and launched himself at his brother, knocking them both onto the hardwood floor and instigating a wrestling match.

Laughing quietly at their antics, Alana turned to Thorin. "Is he always like this when he's drunk?"

"No," Thorin told her with a smile. "This is him actually being quite well behaved. He once caused every patron in a bar to become part of a fight simply by calling one of them a pointy-ear. Half of the people there came to his defence, and the other half were furious he'd done that. In the ensuing fight Kili actually managed to escape from the bar without getting hit even once. When he came home he wouldn't stop laughing for almost ten minutes about the mayhem he'd caused."

Alana smiled. "I remember one of the first times I got drunk," she murmured, an embarrassed flush spreading across her cheeks. "I think I was twenty, and I was visiting one of the dúnedain villages that used to neighbour ours. I arrived there the day a couple got married, and was dragged into the celebration. Anyway, since there were seven kids in this village that couldn't drink, they started playing this game they'd really come to love. It was nothing complicated – one of the older men had carved a ball out of wood, and their game was to see how far one of them could throw it up, and then someone else had to catch it before it came down. Anyway, I don't make a habit out of drinking, so it wasn't long before I was really quite drunk. So when I looked up and saw this thing flying towards me, I immediately thought it was the wooden ball the kids were playing with. I had a pair of strong, leather boots on, and knew doing so wouldn't hurt my foot, so I decided I'd simply kick it back to the kids..." She paused, a look of mortification on her face as she muttered, "It wasn't the ball, as I thought. It..."

Thorin grinned at her and gently nudged her side. "What was it?"

Alana sighed, closing her eyes, and upon resigning herself to her fate she opened them again and met his amused, curious gaze. "It was a pigeon. I kicked a pigeon straight out of the air."

Thorin's face remained flat for about three seconds, before a grin spread across his features and he let out a hearty laugh. His laughter continued for so long that it drew everyone's attention, and Alana let out a groan before burying her burning face in her hands. When Thorin finally settled, he rested his chin on Alana's shoulder and murmured, "I wish I could have been there to see it."

Alana shook her head. "No, you really don't. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life, because _everyone_ saw it. And the whole camp just went really, really quiet, and I couldn't take my eyes off that poor bird. I didn't kill it, but I broke its wing and it was obviously in a lot of pain. I felt so bad for it I broke down into sobs where I stood."

Thorin chuckled again. "I'm rather looking forward to the first time I see you drunk, **_atamanel_**."

Snorting, Alana turned and met his grin, tapping him lightly on the nose. "That, my dear, would be very un-Queenly of me."

Grinning, Thorin retorted, "Then we had best make sure it's before you are coronated, mustn't we? I'm sure there are others here who would agree." He hummed. "In fact..." He pressed the nearly empty bottle of wine into her hands. "Drink up."

"Uh, no," she muttered, pushing the bottle away. "Not a chance. I have no intentions of repeating that night. I've had enough to drink as it is!"

With a soothing smile on his face, Thorin pressed his chin against her shoulder again. "I would stop you from doing anything so embarrassing, my love."

Alana snorted. "Yeah, right. You may act like a King sometimes, but I think deep down you're just as mischievous as your nephews. I'm not falling for that."

"Oh, how your accusations wound me!" Thorin jabbed his fingers into her sides, and Alana's entire body jerked away, while her mouth betrayed her and released a high-pitched squeal. Thorin's grin suddenly became more devious, and the moment he saw the look of horror dawning on Alana's face his fingers dove back into their previous position.

Within a fraction of a second Alana squeaked again, then threw her head back laughing, trying to wriggle her way out of his reach, but Thorin kept her close, tickling her sides mercilessly. It wasn't long before the two were the centre of attention once more, and then everything went silent when Alana jumped a little too far and simply rolled off the chair.

She let out a long breath, then met Thorin's amused gaze. " _Amin delotha lle, (I hate you,)_ " she grumbled.

Thorin grinned. "No, you don't," he shot back, just as he had back at Beorn's. That day felt like so many years in the past, yet Alana knew it had probably only been a month in reality.

"You alright over there, lassie?" Bombur called teasingly, and Alana flicked her finger at him, causing the other dwarves to laugh.

"That wasn't a very Queenly gesture," Fili called from the end of the room, he and Kili having finally stopped wrestling, though they were still half-tangled on the floor.

Alana smirked. "I'm not a Queen yet, Fee. And since that is the case, I'm most certainly gonna make the most of my freedom to swear at whomever I wish." A brief huff of air shot from her lungs as Thorin unceremoniously dropped the wine bottle on her stomach, raising his eyebrow at her. Alana rolled her eyes. "Stop trying to get me drunk, _iaron_ ," she huffed, but nonetheless sat up against his legs and took a healthy swig of the wine.

"You shouldn't have called me that, Alana," Thorin murmured against her ear, leaning down so his words could only be heard by her.

She chuckled. "Well, you _are_ old, are you not?" He cocked an eyebrow again, and Alana frowned contemplatively. "Am I already drunk?" she asked aloud, glancing at the wine bottle. Thorin had said when they first got the bottle that he wasn't a huge fan of wine – and this was really quite a poor quality wine – so she knew most of the alcohol had ended up in her blood. Alana let out a whistle. " _Puitho nín!_ " Behind her, she felt Thorin tense up, and with a frown she thought over what she'd just said. Her hand clapped over her mouth, and a look of acute horror washed over her face. "Oh, Mahal! Did I really just say that?"

The dwarves sent her a curious look. "What did you say?" Ori asked, with an innocence that Alana definitely _could not_ ruin.

She shook her head. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

The dwarves turned to Thorin, who had slipped a mask of emotionlessness onto his face. With a long exhale he shook his head, silently conveying that he wouldn't share it either.

Alana frowned and glanced up at him. "If you know only basic elvish, how could you possibly know that?"

Thorin chuckled, though there was an awkwardness to the sound that was not missed by anyone. "That is a story I shan't be sharing."

Alana grinned wickedly at him. "No, no, no, I want to know."

"Alana..."

"Thorin," she mimicked, grinning. "Come on, I told you about the pigeon!"

"What pigeon?" Bilbo piped up.

Alana blushed. "You don't what to know that either."

"Alana kicked a pigeon on someone's wedding day," Thorin told them, obviously trying to get her to forget her line of interrogation. It worked, because the moment the dwarves began laughing, Alana's face flushed even brighter and she buried her face in her hands again, mentally cursing Thorin for telling them this. Why had she thought it was a good idea to tell him in the first place?

With a sigh, Alana passed Thorin back the wine bottle. Then she blinked, realising something. "Hey, Thorin?"

Thorin cocked an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

"Do you remember when we were at Beorn's you called me **_atamanel_  **for the first time?"

"I do."

"And do you also remembering telling me that you'd one day inform me of what it means? That you actually said you'd tell me when I found out what the rest of the lot were discussing so secretly?"

Thorin chuckled. "I do remember that, yes."

"Well, you're late." She grinned up at him. "So, what does it mean?"

He smiled fondly at her. " ** _Atamanel_** is an endearment that literally translates to 'breath of all breaths'."

Alana giggled. "That's rather poetic," she teased.

Rolling his eyes, Thorin asked her, "Do you remember what I told you when I asked you to court me?"

"Which bit?"

"Which bit do you think?" he countered, knowing that, even with a little alcohol in her blood, her mind would make the link.

Alana pondered for a moment, then made a drawn-out sound of realisation. "You said something like, 'when you're near I feel like there's no breath in my lungs, no strength in my limbs, and yet at the same time all the air and all the strength that I have ever held fills me'."

Thorin nodded, smiling to himself and touched that she so clearly remembered his words, though he didn't know if her memory was perfect. "When I call you **_atamanel_** , that is what I mean."

Alana opened her mouth to speak again, when Kili's yelp met her ears, and she glanced over to see Fili had caught him in a headlock, while the brunette tried frantically to pull himself free.

"Stop it! Fee, let me go!" came the protesting cries. "Ow! _Ow! Fili! You're pulling on my beard!_ "

Alana couldn't stop herself. Maybe it was the alcohol (though she figured probably not), but nonetheless she snickered, and called out teasingly, "What beard?"

For a moment the whole room fell still and silent, but Alana was too busy trying not to laugh at the betrayed expression on Kili's face to really notice. Fili, on the other hand, looked like he'd been handed the world on the silver platter.

He laughed heartily. "You hear that, Kee? Even Alana agrees."

Kili responded by throwing his elbow back into Fili's stomach, the blonde letting out a grunt, before the two were wrestling on the floor again.

Alana turned to Thorin with a half-sheepish, half-amused grin on her face. "I'm going to bed before I cause any more trouble," she told him, before standing up and planting a kiss on his forehead. " _Fuin vaer, meleth nín. (Goodnight, my love.)_ "

Thorin smiled softly at her. " ** _Zann galikh, amrâlimê,_** " he repeated in khuzdul, and then watched her leave the room with a contemplative expression on his face.

* * *

The next day proved to be only slightly more productive than the first, as they set about repairing their clothes and planning what things they would need upon leaving the small town of men. Food had been provided for them for the duration of their stay, so they didn't need to worry about buying any. Curiosity alone was what drove half of the company out into the streets, while the other half remained in the house, making the most of the calm and comfort.

Alana ended up wandering around with Fili and Kili, because – despite his insistence to the contrary – Kili's leg was still healing and the activity ran the risk of doing more harm than good. The trio received more than their fair share of excited or curious looks, and the guards seemed almost hostile towards them. Alana was sure there was a story behind that, but when she asked the boys, they'd simply avoided the question and hurriedly changed the subject. She didn't chase them for an answer, as they had been allowed into the town and were living in a warm house, so she couldn't complain. What happened before she showed up wasn't important in the grand scheme of things.

After an hour of aimless wandering, Alana parted ways with the dwarves, after receiving many promises from Kili not to push himself too far, and promises from Fili to keep an eye on him.

The Ranger watched them closely as they left, but turned away in the end, satisfied their promises would be kept.

She moved then to the edge of the town, standing on a dock that faced the Lonely Mountain directly, and simply stared up at it. The low fog over the lake obscured her view of the base of the mountain, but perhaps that only made the sight more awe inspiring. The sheer peak seemed to cut the sky in two, the snow-covered stone shrouded in mist and wisps of low-hanging cloud, and Alana could scarcely remember a time when such a sight brought such warmth to her. Many times she had admired the beauty of nature, but there was something different about this. Something like... home. She had a familiarity with the mountain through all the tales and stories she'd heard in the past months, and only now did she become so painfully aware of how much she saw this place as where she belonged. It was where she envisioned herself to be in the future.

"It makes for quite the intimidating sight, does it not?"

The familiar voice caused her to grow tense, the slight nasally quality making it easy for her to determine who was speaking. She didn't know his name, having never bothered to inquire, but she knew without looking that this was the Master's right-hand man. 

Swallowing back her disgust, Alana schooled both her face and voice into ones of cool detachment. "I don't think that is the word I would use," was her vague response. 

The man huffed. "Perhaps your opinion would change if you had spent longer in the mountain's shadow."

"Or perhaps _your_  opinion would differ if you bothered to look beyond the beast that lies inside it," she countered coldly, finally casting a glance his way.

He smiled wanly at her. "Easier said than done, I'm afraid, my Lady."

Alana scoffed lightly. "You say that only because you have not tried." She waved him off when he opened his mouth to respond again. "Don't bother – I know what you would say, and I have no desire to argue with you about it."

"What brought you here with the dwarves, then?" he asked, and Alana got the distinct impression this was what he'd always intended to ask. She was grateful he cut to the chase as swiftly as he did.

"A... friend directed me to them," she answered, frowning a little at her hesitation. She was still very upset with the grey wizard for sharing her secret with Thranduil, but the elven King had never brought up the topic of her bloodline, so perhaps she had misjudged him. If so, she may also owe Gandalf an apology. That said, good intentions or not, he still shouldn't have gone behind her back like that.

"A friend?" the man asked, drawing her from her musings. "You didn't sound so sure."

Alana frowned, glancing at him once more. "Is there a reason for your questioning, sir? Because I find I am growing rather tired of your long-winded way of getting to the point."

His face shifted, a faint sneer curling at his lips, before he quickly slipped on a blank mask again. "I am simply curious as to what purpose a Ranger would have amongst such–"

"Be warned that if you have any intention of insulting my companions, I will _not_  be happy," she snarled, cutting him off. "Our business is of no consequence to you."

His face darkened. "Forgive me, _my Lady_ , but since you may very well bring a dragon down on our heads, I think you'll find it is most certainly of consequence to us."

"If such a thing scares you so much then order an evacuation of the town," she snapped back. "We are perfectly aware of the dangers, as are you, and while we will do everything in our power to ensure the beast is brought down, there is still a chance we will fail. I know that, and I accept that. But don't think for a second that the thought of failure would be enough to stop any of us from continuing on to the mountain."

His lips pulled back into a sneer, and this time he made no attempt to hide it. "What interest do you have in that mountain? I find it hard to believe that a _Ranger_  of all people would have noble intentions. What is it you desire? Gold? The throne? And here you are, on the path to getting those–"

Alana cut him off again, though this time with no words. Her hand snapped out and closed around his neck, squeezing just enough to restrict his breathing, but not so much as to completely cut off his air supply.

"My desire," she hissed, her low voice and firm grasp making him pale, "is to see the dwarves returned to their home. It is my desire to rebuild that place so it may once again be a source of pride for their people. The gold and the throne are of no importance to me, and you would do well to remember this; Rangers are not lawless beasts, as you seem to believe. It is our duty to protect ignorant men like you from dangers that would otherwise haunt your dreams at night." She bared her teeth at him, before wrenching her hand from around his neck and taking a step back. "If I hear word that you have harassed another member of my company, believe me when I say that next time, I shall not be so kind."

And with one final scowl, she stalked along the dock, not once turning to look back at him. He was not worth it.


	27. Dwarfish Drinking Traditions

Alana found herself wandering through Laketown's somewhat meagre market on her fourth day there. On that day, it was far colder than the past few weeks had been, the onset of winter casting its cold winds over the small town. A glance at the clouds arriving from the west made Alana think there would be some snowfall within the next day or two. The Ranger had chosen to cast aside her usual cloak, swapping it instead for a fur-lined winter coat. The coat was battered and worn, having been borrowed from one of the old wardrobes that were sat gathering dust in the house they'd been given to stay in until the time came for them to leave, but was nonetheless warm.

Alana paused when she saw a stall full of blooming flowers and plants, so green and colourful still, despite the cold weather. Alana could barely remember the last time she'd paused to admire the nature in front of her – probably at Beorn's.

She glanced up at the ageing woman behind the stall, and she smiled. "You have a lot of skill to be able to keep these plants alive so long into the autumn," she told the woman kindly. "They are beautiful."

"I do what I can, same as anyone," the woman replied, a bluntness to her tone that made it sound harder, but Alana detected there was no ill-will or hostility there. "Growin' plants is about all I know how to do."

"Oh, now, that can't be true," came the simple response. "Everyone can do a lot more than just one thing."

"But not everythin' they know will help keep them alive," the woman responded calmly, though with a hint of bitterness. "There's barely enough food and supplies to go around the whole town, what with..." She trailed off, shaking her head and glancing cautiously at one of the four guards posted in and around the market. "No, I do what I must. That's enough for me."

Alana smiled sadly, understanding that this woman was not alone in her troubles – it seemed that everyone in the town was struggling to survive. "What is your name?" Alana asked at length.

The woman blinked, as if this question surprised her. "Hilda, my lady."

Alana chuckled and waved her off. "No need to call me 'my lady'. Just Alana will do fine."

"If rumour is correct, then you are to be the wife of the new King Under the Mountain," Hilda stated knowingly. "I don't believe it is polite to address a woman of such import as anythin' less."

"Well, I'm not his wife yet," Alana pointed out with a grin. "And I've spent my whole life being addressed by my given name. I would ask that you do the same, regardless of the days that lie ahead of us. Here and now, I am simply a Ranger."

Hilda hummed thoughtfully. "We've not seen a Ranger here since I was a little girl," she mused aloud. "A strange man he was. I learned only after he left that he had an elvish name, despite not being an elf." She blinked. "Is your name elvish, Lady Alana?"

"It is derived from the elvish language of Quenya, yes," Alana responded with a smile. "My name is a combination of two words in that tongue - _alaco_ and _núna._  The former means 'wild wind', and the latter means 'western'."

"Wild western wind," Hilda murmured, smiling. "It suits you, if I may say so."

Alana chuckled. "Thank you, Lady Hilda." She glanced down at the stall again. "Now, how much would it cost me for some of these flowers?"

* * *

 

Alana ended up with a handful of deep burgundy dahlias and some pink and red begonias, wrapped carefully in a short length of cloth. The flowers looked and smelt beautiful, and yet it saddened Alana to note that they were some of the only splashes of colour in this place – most of the clothes people wore were browns, blacks and greys, the only other colours coming from the patches of faded purple and red in the armour of the guards. 

As she was walking back, Fili and Kili appeared from nowhere, popping up beside her and simultaneously linking their arms with hers. Alana raised her eyebrows in question.

"Those are some pretty flowers you've got there, **_irak'amad_** ," Kili noted casually. "Might I ask exactly who they're for?"

"To be honest, I bought them mainly because the woman selling them was very kind to me, and she looked like she could do with the extra money. My intention was simply to find a vase to put them in when we got back to the house."

"Oh, that's a shame," the younger brother stated mournfully, though Alana got the sense he was feigning it. "And here I thought you'd bought them for one of us."

Alana chuckled. "Well, of course, you could have them if you'd like, Kili. I'm sure they'll look lovely woven into your hair."

Fili snorted from his place on her right. "Oh yes, Kee, maybe it'll also help to get the stench of fish out of your hair, too!"

"Hilarious," Kili deadpanned. "At least I smell like fish – trust me, you smell of much fouler things than that."

Fili glared over at his brother. "Now, Kili, we both had to climb through that toilet, just like everyone else. If I–"

"Hold on," Alana cut in, eyes wide. "You... climbed through a toilet?"

Kili huffed. "Oh, good job, Fili."

Laughing, Alana asked, "What in Mahal's name did I miss while I was gone?"

"Well, you see," Fili began, seemingly less bothered by this than his brother, "since Kili managed to get himself shot, and we were both weaponless and being hunted, we couldn't afford to go around the lake and enter via the bridge. So, we got a lift with a rather... stern bargeman, and had to be snuck in."

"In order to hide from the guards," Kili took up, clearly resigned now to completing the tale, "we were told to climb back inside our barrels, and we were covered from head to toe with fish. But even then, we barely made it through."

Alana frowned. "Why did you need to sneak in? I was let in without hassle, despite not being trusted."

"Because we had no way to defend ourselves against any opposition," Fili told her calmly. "And experience has taught us to be wary of strangers that aren't dwarfkind, as they are often far from kind to us." Alana frowned at this, but the blonde dwarf continued on with the tale before she could say anything about it. "We had paid the bargeman to supply us with weapons, and so he took us to his home. But he seems to be some sort of enemy of the Master, because his house was being watched. So, in order to sneak us in, we had to jump in the lake and swim to his house. The only way we could get into said house without being spotted was–"

"Through the toilet," Alana finished with a grin. "Oh, I sincerely wish I had been there to see it."

"I'm just glad you didn't," Kili grumbled. "It wasn't my proudest moment, by a long shot."

Alana snorted. "You never have proud moments," she teased.

"Hey!"

Laughing again, Alana couldn't wipe the wide grin from her face as the brunette pouted, and in her mirth she missed the sly look the brothers exchanged.

"So I have a question," Fili began, and Alana, still grinning, glanced down at him. "How exactly do you kick a pigeon?"

"Yeah," Kili piped up when Alana flushed with mortification. "Don't they spend most of their time in the sky?"

Alana rolled her eyes. "Even birds have to land sometimes," she pointed out. "And there was food everywhere – no doubt it was trying to steal some from under our noses." She shrugged, forcing back the colour in her cheeks. "The result was a low-flying pigeon that just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Are you sure?" Fili piped up, smirking. "Are you sure you don't have a vendetta against pigeon-kind, Alana?"

Alana shook her head. "You two are ridiculous."

"Hey, what goes around comes around," Fili shot back with a grin. "You teased us about climbing through a toilet, so we'll tease you about kicking a pigeon."

Kili nodded, and then another of those sly looks crossed his face, though this time Alana glanced down in time to catch it. "So, what do you say we go out for a drink?" he asked.

Alana cocked an eyebrow. "It's not even lunchtime yet."

"So?" Fili challenged. "It'll take us until night to get drunk even if we start now."

Alana scoffed. "I think you're forgetting how drunk you got on Bilbo's birthday."

"We weren't drunk," Kili protested, and Alana shot him another raised eyebrow. "We weren't! It doesn't count if you wake up without a hangover the next morning. We were both fine! Ergo: we weren't drunk."

Alana shook her head. "I have no idea what to do with you two," she grumbled.

"Love us."

"Feed us."

"Never leave us." The two finished in unison, grinning.

Alana found herself laughing again. "Oh, you've used that before, haven't you?"

"All the time," Fili affirmed. "Especially when we were younger. We used to drive our mother mad."

Alana scoffed. "I get the feeling you still do," she teased, and Fili looked affronted for a moment, before he shrugged and nodded in silent agreement.

Kili tugged on her arm, grinning like an excited child. "So? What do you say? Drink?"

Alana groaned. "If I say 'yes', will you stop hounding me about it?"

"Of course," came the immediate response.

Alana sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. " _Fine._  But not in any public tavern – in the house only."

Kili beamed. "As you wish, ** _irak'amad_**. Come on, Fee!"

Then the younger brother grabbed his sibling's wrist and began dragging him forward. Alana let out a soft groan when they were gone. "Oh, you idiot," she grumbled to herself. "Just _what_  have you gotten yourself into?"

* * *

 

Thorin found himself feeling a little restless as he sat by the window, listening with half an ear to the conversation going on behind him between Dwalin, Balin, Gloin and Dori. He had no desire to leave this house, knowing he would likely be forced into a meeting or a feast of some kind with Master, during which the dishonourable man would try to trick him into promising more gold to the town. He was feeling hesitant enough as it was, knowing that the gold he had already promised would end up in the pockets of the greedy Master, while the people here continued to live in poverty. He was stunned that so many remained in Laketown in spite of this, but he knew many would not be able to survive the long trip to a more prosperous life. He felt sorrow for the people who lived here, felt sympathy and pity, but also understanding. He knew how it felt to have no money to your name, to have few possessions beyond the clothes on your back. Somewhere deep down, the desire to help raged strong, but it was squashed down by the harsh reminder that any money he sent this way would end up in the pockets of the weasel who ran the place.

Tilting his head at the sound of the door opening, Thorin observed Alana emerging from the cold with a bunch of flowers in her grasp, sighing in relief when she felt the warmth wafting from the hearth, and she quickly shed her thick coat. She met his eyes from across the room, and sent him a warm, genuine smile, before she disappeared into the kitchen. He waited for her to reappear, unsurprised to see she had returned with her flowers in a bland vase, which she placed in the centre of the table between the conversing dwarves. Then, after giving the others a smile of greeting, she approached Thorin.

"Hello," she murmured, planting a peck on his lips.

Thorin felt some of his restlessness wash away into the familiar calm that came with being by her side. She had the uncanny ability to soothe him with her mere presence, to make his worries fade to the back of his mind. "Hello," he responded with a smile. Then he glanced at the table, arching an eyebrow in question. "Flowers?"

Alana shrugged. "I felt sorry for the woman selling them, and she was quite amiable. Besides, you can't deny it's nice to have a little colour in here."

He didn't deny it, though personally he thought blue or purple would have looked better than the red and pink she'd chosen. He kept that to himself however. Upon returning his gaze to the Ranger, he noted that she looked uneasy. "Is something wrong?" he asked in concern, sitting up slightly. 

Alana hummed, though the sound was tinged with thoughtfulness. "I think I might have made a bad decision," she confessed, her blue eyes darting up to meet his gaze. "I agreed to have a drink with your nephews."

Thorin chuckled, relieved to learn it was nothing serious. "After the other night, they are eager to learn of your behaviour when properly drunk. That, and we haven't had the chance to drink since we were in the Blue Mountains. They will undoubtedly be making the most of our free access to ale and beer."

Alana sighed. "I suppose," she murmured, perching beside him on the window sill. "I just feel I might have bitten off more than I can chew."

"Oh, definitely," he said with a bark of laughter. "But it was going to happen eventually, and you know it. It's best to get it over with sooner rather than later, don't you think?"

"At least I won't be surrounded by strangers," she muttered, frowning. "I'm much more comfortable being drunk around you guys than... Well, anyone, really."

Thorin smiled and patted her gently on the knee. "I am glad to hear that, **_atamanel_**. But you shouldn't be embarrassed or worried – once the alcohol is flowing, the rest of us will be joining in with the revelry, I assure you."

Alana chuckled. "Now that I can believe," she said with a grin, leaning over and placing her head on his shoulder, entwining their fingers together. "Are you ever going to tell me where you heard that elvish phrase I said yesterday?"

Thorin immediately tensed, and he didn't doubt that Alana could sense the discomfort coming off him in waves. "Is it not fairly self-explanatory?" he asked, not-so-subtly trying to avoid the subject.

"Perhaps," she allowed. "But you would have had to be in an elven realm to have heard it. So...?"

Sighing, Thorin admitted, "It was during one of my family's visits to the Woodland Realm, before the dragon came, though not long before. Thranduil had given my family access to a guest suite during our stay, but it was at the end of the hall. I was returning to our rooms one evening when I passed another room and overheard an elven couple..." He grimaced.

"Making the beast with two backs?" Alana finished with a grin.

Thorin slowly nodded. "I do not know exactly what it means," he confessed. "But, given the circumstances through which I came to hear it, I don't think I need to."

Alana chuckled. "Well, you're not wrong there."

The two settled into silence, which began slightly awkward, but eventually they settled into a more comfortable quiet. Thorin tenderly pulled his hand from hers and then wrapped it around her waist, pulled her closer against him. She smiled and leaned further into him, and Thorin allowed himself to simply enjoy their proximity. 

The moment was ruined by the door bursting open again, and Fili and Kili came in bearing many bottles of ale (at least six each), followed by a chipper Bofur and a grumbling Bilbo, both of whom were also laden with bottles.

"What's the occasion, lads?" Dwalin asked as he glanced at them, a bemused expression on his face.

Fili grinned over at him. "We're getting Alana drunk. Properly drunk, I mean."

Alana sighed, turning and burying her face into Thorin's neck. "This was a serious mistake," she grumbled, and Thorin released a rumbling chortle. He felt Alana scowling against his skin. "Thanks for the sympathy, Thorin," she bit out, and he responded by placing a kiss on her head, before ushering her to her feet.

Alana sighed again, but nonetheless plodded over to the grinning brothers. Kili handed her a bottle, then rushed to the kitchen. There was the sound of clashing crockery, before he returned with his arms laden with pint tankards. He then snatched the bottle back from her and emptied its contents into the tankard.

Alana's gaze was almost wary when Kili glanced up at her again, though he himself was beaming.

"Bottom's up," he stated cheerfully, pressing the drink into her hands.

Alana raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked, and Thorin found himself feeling surprised to learn she didn't know its meaning.

"We want you to drink in one," Fili explained with a grin. "At this point, it's almost tradition for a dwarf to chug the first drink."

Alana blinked. "Really?"

"Don't tell me you're scared," Kili goaded, grinning as he poured himself out his own drink.

"Not scared," Alana said slowly. "I've never done it before, though."

Kili grinned. "No time like the present."

"And don't worry if you spill it," the blonde brother added with a smirk. "Let's be honest, everybody does."

"Everybody except Thorin," Dwalin cut in from behind, though he stood to grab his own tankard. "Here, lass; I'll do it with you."

Alana sighed. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," she grumbled, before she tapped her tankard against Dwalin's and then threw her head back. Thorin watched with raised eyebrows as she swallowed back the drink, eyeing the curve of her neck and being admittedly impressed that she managed to keep drinking without any of the ale escaping down her chin. It was only a few seconds before she finished the whole pint.

Blinking and letting out a light cough, Alana lowered her arm, wiping away a small dribble of liquid from the corner of her mouth. The dwarves raised their voices and cheered at her, though it seemed to take her a moment to notice this. She wasn't swaying or wobbly yet, but Thorin knew it wouldn't be long before the alcohol made it into her blood and made her head fuzzy and clouded, and her body undoubtedly less coordinated. A faint smirk touched at his lips at the thought, and he found himself eagerly looking forward to it.

Slightly flushed, Alana glanced over at Dwalin. The dwarf chuckled at the expression on her face; somewhere between shocked and pleased. "Not bad for a first go, lass," he said, winking at her. He had beaten her to the finish, as was expected, but only by a couple seconds, and he had some of his ale dripping down his beard.

Alana released what Thorin could only describe as a girlish giggle, beaming with pure joy, and even Thorin felt a proud grin stretching across his lips.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Kili cheered, before he, Fili and Bofur all crashed their full tankards together and swallowed back their drinks, leaving quite the mess on the floor.

Alana was watching with a cocked eyebrow, before she shook her head fondly and poured out another two drinks, before making her way over to Thorin. He accepted the drink she offered with a crooked smile, shifting slightly to give her a little more space as she retook her seat by his side.

Thorin gulped back a few mouthfuls of ale, much more content with this than the wine he and Alana had shared two nights before. Then he glanced at Alana and teased, "I think you've just officially become a dwarf now."

Alana laughed. "And I've no doubt I'm going to pay for it tomorrow." She smiled, sipping her drink much more calmly, and then she returned her head to its place on his shoulder. "But you know what? I'm positive it'll be worth the pain."


	28. What Goes Around...

Once the alcohol began flowing more freely, certain things about Alana... changed. She grinned and giggled an awful lot, and was brave to the point of stupidity – not that she cared. She was having too much fun with a dismantled bedside table, surfing down the stairs on the largest piece of wood over and over again with Fili, Kili and Bofur. Once they'd cleared out all of the ale, Thorin and Bilbo – the only two not to have drunk more than a pint – left the house and then came back with several more bottles ale, and also a couple of fine elvish wine.

When Alana curiously (and with a slight wobble to her voice) asked how they managed to convince the Master to give them such fine wine, Thorin had simply shot her a smirk and winked, and then moved on as if that explained everything. She began to wonder then if they had broken into the Master's house and just stolen the bottles (she thought it possible, though rather unlikely), but was quickly distracted from that particular train of thought by a fresh tankard of ale being shoved into her grasp.

Lunch had come and gone, and it was now halfway through the afternoon. Alana had enough sanity left to know she was dangerously drunk, but couldn't stop her mouth from speaking, nor her body from acting without thought. Whatever table manners she'd had before had gone out the window – more than once she had let forth a loud belch as a side effect of all her drinking, and she also had a habit of bursting into a fit of giggles straight after. This light-headedness provided with it a sense of freedom that she hadn't felt for a long time.

She approached Bilbo from the side and grinned down at him when he glanced warily up at her. "Hello, little hobbit," she greeted, then blinked down at him. She could have sworn... No, no, there was only one of him. Never mind. 

"You are quite sloshed, aren't you, Lady Alana?" he asked in amusement, politely declining the tankard she offered him.

Alana giggled. "Maybe," she whispered, drawing out the 'a' sound. "But, I came to ask if you know any drinking songs."

Bilbo blinked at her. "What?"

"Drinking songs," she repeated with a chirp. "You little hobbitses make an awful racket when you're drunk. Surely you know one you could teach me."

Bilbo chuckled. "Perhaps another time, Alana."

Alana's moan of complaint was broken off when a tiny wasp suddenly flew in front of her face. She shrieked and stumbled back, screaming bloody murder, flailing her arms around her head. Everyone paused as she tripped over the armchair by the fire, moving to crawl next to the chair, tucking her head into her arms. "Get it away from me!" she cried, to the amusement of the others. "Get it away! Thorin, _get it away from me!_ " The wasp continued buzzing around her head, making Alana curl tighter into a ball, and Fili stepped forward.

Only, instead of helping to shoo away the wasp (though it flew off on its own as he approached), the blonde Prince knelt behind and told her in a hissed voice, "Thorin's dead. You're next."

Poor Fili paid the price for that. Alana screamed and jerked back, smashing her skull into Fili's face and causing the Prince to let out a yelp of pain, collapsing back onto the floor. When Alana spun and saw the wasp had flown away, she scowled at Fili and began beating at his arms. "You _bastard!_ " she cried, and causing Fili to fall into a fit of cackles at her reaction. " _You absolute bastard!_ "

"Y-You're afraid of _wasps?!_ " Fili spluttered between laughs, and Alana scowled again and smacked the back of his head.

"No, I'm not, _ech lýgion_. I'm just–"

"You are!" he cried, his laughter still very present in his voice. "You're afraid of a tiny insect!"

"By Mahal, _no, I’m not!_ And even if I were, that's no reason to laugh. We're all afraid of something." When Fili just continued to howl with laughter, she gave up and just sat back. There was silence for a moment, before she turned to Kili and reached out a hand. "I need another drink."

The dwarves cheered at that, and the young Prince happily poured out another tankard of wine.

"Wait," Dwalin called, "it's not a true night without a competition. Come on!"

The company – sans Thorin and Bilbo, both of whom stood back to watch the chaos unfold (with varying degrees of amusement and disgust, respectively) – gathered around the table, accepting full tankards of ale.

Alana perked up at Dwalin's words, wandering over to the rest with an air of fresh curiosity. "What type of competition?"

"See who can get it down fastest," came the reply, and Alana beamed broadly.

"Well, sign me up!"

"You sure, lassie?" Gloin asked, cocking an eyebrow even as he handed her a tankard. "You'd never done it before tonight."

Alana blew a raspberry, smirking. "It doesn't take long to become an expert. Ten coins says I can beat every one of you."

Gloin chuckled. "I'll take that bet. Hope you don't mind parting ways with some of your money."

She smirked, placing her tankard against her lip. "Someone want to count us in?"

Bofur did exactly that, and the twelve dwarves and single human woman threw their heads back. Bilbo watched with wide eyes as they made even more mess than they had done back in Bag End, and even Alana was spilling her drink down herself, leaving orange rivulets of liquid down her chin and neck. To his shock, she did indeed finish first, slamming down her tankard on the table. She squealed loudly when she noticed she'd won, grinning proudly. The others laughed and congratulated her, and Gloin parted with his coin easily enough.

Then the belching began, four of the dwarves letting theirs out all at once, the belches becoming progressively louder, until Alana was the only one to have remained silent. They all stared at her expectantly, and with a loud grin, Alana spread her lips and let out a belch that would have Bilbo's poor parents turning in their graves if they ever heard it. 

From beside him, he heard Thorin murmur, "What in Mahal's name have I allowed them to do to her?"

* * *

 

Alana was glad to have burnt off a significant amount of the alcohol in her blood by the time dinner rolled around, having been convinced by Thorin shortly after the competitions to stop drinking with the others and switch instead to water. She'd protested at first, but hindsight made her glad he'd convinced her to do it. The other dwarves were still drinking and laughing merrily, only a few of them showing any obvious signs of inebriation, but Alana knew quite a few of them were still quite foxed.

Dinner was quite the merry affair, with lots of laughing and shouting, and, of course, the obligatory food fight.

Alana had received quite the shock when the fight started, and at least half of the company began aiming their scraps solely at her. She had ducked and dodged pieces of bread and meat, and more than a few different types of vegetable. In the end she managed to avoid being hit, and upon realising this, Kili jumped up on top of the table and launched himself onto her shoulders (almost knocking them both to the ground, since he was far heavier than he looked, and she still wasn't completely stable).

He then dumped almost his entire tankard of ale over her head.

Alana froze where she stood, mouth agape and dripping wet, before she scowled and threw Kili off her. He fell to the floor with a yelp, and at least had the decency to look sheepish when Alana whirled on him with a stern expression on her face. "Would you care to explain to me exactly _what_  I did to deserve that?"

Kili shrugged. "You made fun of us about the toilet."

"You made fun of me too!"

"Yeah," Fili piped up, "but at least you didn't have to go through the indignity of climbing up through a waste-infested tube."

Alana shook her head, feeling the beginnings of laughter bubbling up in the pit of her stomach at the simple image those words evoked. "That was no fault of mine," she pointed out, before flicking some of the ale out of her eyes. The dwarves were chuckling under their breaths at her bedraggled state, but Alana shrugged it off easily. "Alright, alright," she grumbled, "you've made your point. I apologise for laughing at you."

"Apology accepted, lass," Balin said kindly, the others offering agreeing nods.

Satisfied, Alana glanced back down at her sodden clothes and released a sigh. "Well, it seems I'm in need of a wash. I'll be back in an hour or so." She shot them a quick glance, noting they seemed perfectly content to simply turn back to their drinks, before she shook her head again and went to her and Thorin's room, grabbing a grey towel and draping it over her shoulder, before heading towards Esgaroth's public bath house. 

The bath house was on the very edge of the town, meaning Alana had to wander through several streets to get there. The late hour meant the streets were empty of everyone but a few guards who traipsed lazily across the wooden pathways. A few glanced curiously at her as she passed, but asked no questions about why she was as soaked as she was, nor where she was headed – thankfully for her, the towel was answer enough for them.

A blast of warmth welcomed her as she entered the bath house, before she moved into the right-hand room, which was assigned as the women's changing area. She quickly shed her clothes and hung them up on racks to dry while she bathed, though she had a feeling they wouldn't take well to the ale-soaking they'd received. Then Alana moved into the women's bathing room.

The large pool was understandably empty, given the hour, and Alana wasted no time before she dove into the deep water. The temperature wasn't as warm as she'd usually have preferred it to be, but was warm enough to make her comfortable. She ducked her head under the water, holding her breath and running her hands through her black hair, encouraging the water to wash out the ale that had been there before. She resurfaced only when her lungs began screaming for air, and she quickly shook the drips from her eyes and brushed her hair back with her hands.

Swimming to the edge of the bath, Alana picked up one of the eight bars of soap sitting on a low bench by the side and began kneading her skin with the soap, rinsing away the fruity scent of ale; it wasn't altogether unpleasant, but the tang of alcohol wasn't one she wanted hanging around her. The subtle aroma of lavender quickly began to fill the air, and with a sigh Alana put the soap back and dove to the bottom of the bath, running her hands over her skin to wipe away the more stubborn soap suds. Then she swam to the edge of the bath and pulled herself out, wringing the worst of the water from her hair as she perched on the edge, her feet still trailing in the water.

With a loud exhale, Alana got to her feet and padded back into the changing area, fully prepared to grab her clothes and return to the house, and then head straight to bed.

Only to find her clothes were missing.

Not even her towel remained, the changing room completely bare of coats, cloaks, tunics, breeches and shoes.

Alana could do no more than stare in utter horror for a good half-minute, before she forced herself to take a deep breath and blow it out through her nose.

Resigned to the fact that she would have to make her way back as bare as the day she was born (she was grateful that those _infernal dwarves_ had at least allowed her the dignity of sneaking back at night, when no one else was around), Alana left the changing room and headed for the door. She pulled it open just enough to poke her head around it, and upon noting that there was no one there, she darted into the night.

Frigid air wrapped itself around her body, licking away all the warmth it could. The fact that she still had droplets of water on her skin was no help at all, and Alana wrapped her arms around herself as best she could to preserve some of the heat she had managed to hold on to. Despite the emptiness of the town, Alana stuck to the shadows as much as she could. This proved to be quite difficult however, as the pallor of her flesh meant she almost seemed to glow in the pearly moonlight.

She had made it barely fifty feet from the bath house before she saw the approaching shadow of a guard, and with a whispered curse she ducked into the narrow space between two houses and screwed her eyes shut. The heavy footsteps drew nearer, and Alana blew out a silent breath when they continued on past her hiding space without pause. She poked her head out again, before rushing across the streets. It was her hope that, if she was quick enough, she wouldn't have to hide from the guards again.

Unfortunately for her, this plan failed spectacularly.

Upon noticing yet another guard heading her way, Alana flailed for a moment, trying to find a place to hide. In doing so she lost her footing on the slippery pathway, and in a rare moment of clumsiness, she fell straight into the lake. 

The water was so cold against her bare skin that it stole every thought from her mind the moment it began to spark to life. It felt like a thousand little needles poking at her limbs, making her muscles seize up instantly and making her arms and legs feel like they were made of lead. With a burst of effort, Alana swum upwards, her head breaking the surface of the water not too far from the pathway she'd fallen off.

After a quick glance to her left, Alana wondered if Fate had somehow gotten mixed up in the dwarves' prank – because there, barely five feet from her face, was one of the lavatories that dumped straight into the lake. Shuddering at the thought of what was probably floating in the water around her, Alana turned to head back to the path, only to then notice that she could swim directly to her destination from here.

Knowing that, in the freezing cold, speed was vital, Alana quickly made her decision and began swimming towards the house, recognising that one of the windows in the wall facing her way was the window to her and Thorin's room – there was a faded blue curtain in front of the glass, instead of the red curtains that were in every other room. She tried not to squeak every time she brushed up against something suspended in the water, praying each time that it was only a fish.

Her body was a shivering mess by the time she reached the tattered building, and there was no doubt in her mind that her lips were bluer than Thorin's coat at this point. With one last burst of strength, Alana hauled herself up out of the water, using the out-jutting sill of a ground-floor window to pull herself up. Then she stood on shaky limbs and reached up and worked her target window open, before jumping up and grabbing the ledge.

With her feet scrambling for purchase on the flat wall, Alana wriggled through the window into the house, her legs being the last to greet the warm air of the indoors. She collapsed on the ground, quivering and trembling, before she crawled over to the bed and dragged the blanket off the top of it. As she did so, her clothes (still damp, but smelling of soap rather than ale, so clearly freshly washed) thudded onto the floor. Alana huffed dryly, wrapping the thick blanket around her and curling into a ball, trying to work some heat back into her body.

She flinched when the door opened, and glanced up to see Thorin standing frozen in the doorway. He quickly shut the door behind him and was beside her in three long strides. "Mahal, Alana, what happened?" he asked in shock, crouching down beside her. He reached out a hand to cup her face, hissing through his teeth at the first moment of contact. "You're freezing!"

Alana shrugged, burrowing deeper into the blanket and suddenly very, _very_  aware of her nakedness. "It's almost winter," she pointed out.

Thorin's brows furrowed, before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She hesitated before snuggling closer, though a part of her was tempted to shed the blanket and simply allow his heat to swallow up her bare skin – purely for practical purposes, of course. "Alana," he said, tone telling her that, this time, he deadly serious, and wouldn't accept another redirection, "what happened?"

"I'm guessing you're aware the others stole my clothes while I was bathing?"

With a brief pause, Thorin nodded. "I am."

"Well, that certainly didn't help." She sighed. "It's not their fault, though. When I was trying to sneak back, I slipped on the wood and fell into the lake."

"Oh, Alana," he sighed, squeezing her closer to his chest. "No wonder you're so cold." He shook his head. "I should never have let them do that–"

"It's okay, Thorin," she told him, smiling up at him when he shot her an unconvinced look. "It's okay – they meant it all in good humour, and I know it was never their intention for me to fall in. That was entirely my fault; I don't blame them, and you shouldn't either."

"I will not be happy if you become ill because of this," he murmured, brushing his lips against her forehead. "But I will do as you ask."

"Thank you," she murmured, smiling again.

Thorin shifted slightly, glancing down at her curled-up form, only to immediately flush and avert his eyes. Alana blinked, then glanced down at herself and realised with a stab of embarrassment that the blanket had slipped, leaving him with a rather generous view of her bosom. A shy grin tugged at her lips as she readjusted her blanket again.

Sensing it was safe to do so, Thorin tilted his head back her way. "Get changed into some dry clothes and join us downstairs by the fire," he instructed softly. "With luck, you'll warm up in no time."

Alana nodded, and then smiled into the affectionate kiss that he planted on her lips, before the two of them untangled themselves. Thorin glanced back as he left, smiling at her with such love in his eyes that Alana thought she wouldn't need a fire to become warm again, practically melting onto the floor as she returned it. Then Thorin disappeared, pulling the door shut behind him, and Alana sluggishly began pulling on her nightclothes.

* * *

Despite her assurances that she would be fine, Alana woke up the following morning with a sore throat, a splitting headache, and a bunged up nose. Letting out a moan of pure misery, she rolled out of bed – noting that Thorin was already dressed and gone – and wrapped her fluffy nightgown tightly around her figure before making her way down the stairs. On her way down she was caught off guard by a violent sneezing fit, which she later learned had successfully woken up the company members who were not already up and about.

"Mahal, woman, you look terrible!"

Alana shot a half-hearted glare in Gloin's direction, before slumping into an empty chair. "Thanks, Gloin," she grumbled, her voice thick. "I always know I can rely on you to make me feel better."

Gloin chuckled at her misery, but nonetheless got up. "I'll prepare you a nice warm drink," he told her. "My brother may be the healer here, but I know a thing or two about curing the common cold." And with that he disappeared into the next room. 

Alana frowned, then turned to face Bofur, who was the only other dwarf present. He looked fairly miserable himself, nursing what was likely to be a killer hangover in the wake of the previous night's drinking – he in particular had been quite taken with the wine. "You look worse than I do," she noted, then sneezed twice more. Her throat felt like it was being scraped with a knife, and once her sneezing stopped she let out a pathetic little whine.

"Keep the noise down, would you?" Bofur moaned, pulling his hat down over his ears. "My head hurts enough without your blasted sneezing making it worse." Then he muttered under his breath, " ** _Ibzig khûthzul marân. (Damn elvish wine.)_** "

Alana suddenly understood Gloin's amusement, Bofur's complaining causing her to crack a grin.

Before anything else could be said, the sound of heavy footsteps sounded from the stairs, and with another groan Bofur planted his face on the table, trying to hide from noise by wrapping his arms around his head. Looking up, Alana offered up a weak smile when Dori and Nori wandered in, both of them shooting her sympathetic looks when they caught sight of how pale she looked, before heading into the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. Not long later the smell and sound of sizzling bacon brought everyone else down from their rooms, except Fili and Kili, who had apparently claimed to be never leaving their beds again, and Thorin and Dwalin, both of whom had left the house already, for reasons unknown. 

Gloin reappeared then, carrying with him a large mug of steaming amber liquid. He passed it to a confused Alana with something resembling a proud smile.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Warm, watered-down brandy, with honey, lemon and cinnamon," said Gloin, and her eyebrows raked up. "Should help make you feel better. Worked wonders for my little Gimli before he developed his immunity."

Alana blinked a few times at the thoughtful gesture, and then smiled gratefully up at the large dwarf. "Thank you, Gloin."

Taking a tentative sip, Alana was delighted to learn the drink was really quite pleasant, the cinnamon and lemon adding a tang to it that took away some of the sweetness from the brandy and honey. Alana let herself relax, pulling her feet off the floor and tucking them underneath her, snuggling into the comforting warmth of her nightgown. She knew it wasn't exactly proper for her to be sat in plain view in her nightclothes, but she trusted the dwarves and thought them all family (a very twisted and dysfunctional family, but family nonetheless), and they didn't seem too bothered by it either. Not even the ones who would occasionally prompt others to follow the 'proper etiquette', like Balin and Dori.

She was broken from her musing when the door opened, letting in a blast of cold air that whipped around her and made her shudder involuntarily. Thorin and Dwalin stepped inside, both with flakes of snow in their hair. Alana found herself suddenly very glad she hadn't had to run around naked in _that_  kind of weather. 

Dwalin joined his kin at the table, while Thorin moved towards her. He sighed when he saw how ill she was, wrapped tightly in her warm nightgown, hands cradling the steaming mug of hot brandy. " ** _Arniki sanriti intuhul inkrul, (I think you might be sick,)_** " he murmured, a dry edge to his voice.

Alana smiled bemusedly. "You do know there is no point in having a conversation with someone who can't understand what you're saying, right?"

Thorin rolled his eyes fondly, and smile curling at his lips. "I was simply making an observation, **_atamanel_**." He sighed, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. "I feared this would happen. Those boys..."

Alana tilted her head. "Am I right in taking that to mean your nephews were the one to make this little plan?"

Thorin nodded. "They managed to convince everyone else to try to hit you with their food so it would make it necessary for you to wash yourself off. The idea itself, and the... execution of the main part of the plan was entirely down to those two."

Alana smirked. "Well," she began, drawing out the sound to catch his attention, "they _are_  refusing to get out of bed, apparently. I wouldn't be averse to dumping a bucket of cold water over their heads to get them moving."

Chuckling to himself, Thorin noted, "You're hardly in a position to go that."

Alana scoffed. "I'm sick, Thorin – I'm not dead."

Thorin shook his head. " ** _Lu', bâhzundushuh, (No, my raven,)_** " he said, straightening up and planting a kiss on her forehead. "You stay here and finish your drink; I shall deal with it."

Alana grinned at him. "Have I ever told you before that I love you?"

Thorin chuckled. "Hmm, I'm not so sure that you have..."

Rolling her eyes, Alana leaned forward and kissed the end of his nose. "I love you, you idiot. Now go and wake your nephews. And leave the doors open – I want to be able to hear their reactions."

Smiling, Thorin drew back and offered a slight bow. "Your wish is my command." Then he winked at her and turned around, murmuring to Dwalin for a moment, before the burly dwarf grinned wolfishly and stood up from the table, the two of them quickly heading back outside, no doubt to collect the necessary items.

"What's all that about?" Nori asked, looking between Alana and the door.

With a smirk, Alana replied, "They're very kindly going out to prepare my payback against Fili and Kili for the stunt they pulled yesterday, in the form of buckets of cold water."

Nori cackled, grinning. "I like the way you think, **_markhûna_**."

Alana paused at the sound of khuzdul escaping his lips, glancing up curiously. "What does that mean?"

"Literally it means 'shield-lady'," the russet-haired dwarf supplied. "In your tongue you may be more familiar with the term 'shield-sister'."

Alana blinked, then flushed slightly. "Wow. Thank y–" She was cut off by another wave of sneezes, making Nori snort in amusement, and simply nod in return when the sneezing fit stopped and she was able to look at him again.

Thorin and Dwalin came back in a moment later, each with a wooden bucket full of water in their grasp, and they didn't pause before tromping up the stairs. Alana waited, tense with anticipation, biting her lower lip in a vain attempt to control her grin. There was a distinct pause, followed by a distinct splash of water, and then Fili and Kili's high-pitched yells, cries and curses.

Their reaction was exactly what she'd been hoping for, and Alana instantly cracked-up, barely being able to stop herself from spilling her drink all over herself as her whole body shook with her howling laughter. She was still laughing when Thorin and Dwalin emerged once more, looking very smug, and two sodden dwarf Princes trailed in their wake.

The brothers shot her identical glares when they spotted her, and Alana raised her mug in a silent toast. "What was it you said?" she asked, smirking. "'What goes around comes around'?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kili grumbled, slouching onto a chair against the table. "You've made your point."

Thorin spoke next, some of his mirth fading to seriousness. "You're not to do this again, okay?" Fili and Kili met his eyes, and their faces dropped slightly. "I understand it was all in good humour, but Alana is ill now. Whether you intended that to happen or not, regardless, it is your prank on her that caused it."

"Sorry, uncle," Kili murmured dejectedly.

"Oh, don't listen to him," Alana piped up, causing the two brothers to snap their heads her way in surprise. "I told you I knew what I was getting into when Thorin and I began courting. A bit of harmless pranking was expected, to be frank."

"It was hardly harmless," Thorin protested.

Alana rolled her eyes. "Stop worrying so much. It's just a cold – it'll be gone in a few days, and when it does, this'll just be another story to tell." She met his gaze, noting the furrow of his brow and his pursed lips. "Thorin," she said, and she could tell he had noticed the sudden serious tone to her voice, "I promise, it's okay. I'm fine. Please don't worry yourself over this."

Thorin hesitated, then slowly tilted his head to the side in silent acquiescence. He shot his nephews a look that she couldn't read from this angle, but it seemed to be some form of forgiveness, because Fili and Kili brightened up instantly. With a smile on her face, Alana settled back into her chair and took another sip of her drink, letting the warmth surge through her as she watched the dwarves start devouring their breakfast.


	29. Durin's Day

They remained in Laketown for many days before they became more pressed for time, leaving them with a little less than a week to get to Erebor and find the hidden door.

Alana received three more letters from her mystery friend during their stay in the town of men. Once more, she refused to let anyone see the letters, nor did she divulge any information on just who she was talking to so frequently.

After they had rested and regained their strength, Thorin became eager to leave the town, and so left the company on afternoon on their fifteenth day in the town of men to discuss things with the Master. It came as no surprise that the Master was not sorry to see them go, though it was clear the fat man tried hard to hide it. They were, after all, expensive to keep, and their arrival had turned things for the people into a long holiday, in which business was at a standstill. He had declared with much embellishment and grotesque gesticulation that the men of the lake would help in whichever ways they could.

This turned out to be in the form of boats, ponies, and supplies. The ponies had been sent ahead to meet them at their appointed landing-place on the northern shore.

The company were gathered in front of the people of Laketown before they left, and the Master announced quite unexpectedly that Thorin had a speech to give them. One glance at the suddenly irate expression on his face told Alana that Thorin most certainly _did not_  wish to have to give such a speech, but with the expectation of the town suddenly on his shoulders, he nonetheless stepped forward to address the crowd.

He was quiet for a moment, mulling over his words, before his powerful voice echoed over the silent wooden streets. It was as if the very wind had stilled in order to listen to him speak.

"This company began its quest many months ago, to reclaim what was taken from us, to fight back against that which has sunk its claws into our land and tried to drag us down with it. We are now nearing the end of our journey, with the aid of you good people, who have armed us and clothed us, and have given us time to rest and regain our strength. Your service to us will not be forgotten, this I can promise you." He paused, glancing at the company, who were watching him with proud expressions. Something flickered across his face when Thorin's stormy eyes came to a halt on Alana, Fili and Kili standing together, and then he turned to continue. "There is a lesson to be learned here, I think," he added, frowning thoughtfully. "There were many who said nothing less than an army would be able to make it to the mountain. But we have achieved that with just fifteen. Ten dwarves who are my kin through blood and through bonds, whom I trust with my life and whom I would gladly die for; a hobbit who offered us aid, who had many reasons and many chances to turn back, but who chose to stay with us, to help us reclaim our home when his lay behind him; my two heirs, my greatest warriors and the ones I have entrusted with the legacy of our bloodline, who have proven themselves a hundred times over and will undoubtedly do so a thousand times more; and finally, a Ranger, who shares the blood of the old Kings of Arnor, and who is to one day rule by my side as the Queen of Erebor. She has earned the one thing I never thought I would be able to give away; she achieved something that no one else ever has or will – she has claimed my heart." He paused again, but this time only briefly. "Fifteen souls make up this company, and I would take each and every one of them over any army that was offered to me, because they have shown that there are greater things out there than sheer strength. Loyalty. Honour. A willing heart. That is all that is ever needed to achieve what was thought to be impossible, and they have proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt."

Thorin's words were met with silence at first, no one knowing quite how to react.

Then in a split-second the air was crackling with thunderous cheers and frantic applause, and Thorin turned back to his company, all of whom were deeply touched by his words. Thorin offered them all a smile and a nod, which was returned by each and every one of them.

Then the Master interrupted their moment with a flamboyant cry of farewell, and the company was escorted to the edge of the town, and it was from here that they would depart for the mountain.

Three large boats left Laketown amidst falling leaves, a cold wind in the air, and the boats were accompanied by the cheers and singing of the people of Laketown as they leaned out of their windows and over balcony railings to shout their fond farewells to the company.

There was a lightness to the group at first, as they were all eager to restart their journey and continue onwards to the mountain. Within the next few hours the full weight of their next task began to settle on their shoulders, and a strange quietness overcame the company, as it had not done since they were lost amongst the tall eaves of Mirkwood. All eyes looked ahead at the towering form of the Lonely Mountain, and all minds drifted to the slumbering dragon inside its walls. Yet hope remained, for perhaps the dragon Smaug had simply died in his sleep in the many long years that had passed since the fall of Erebor.

When night was falling on the first day, and the dwarves settled themselves on the bottom of the boats for the night, Thorin quietly called Alana to the head of their boat, taking her hand and commanding only that she watched the mountain. Alana's breath was stolen when the sun dipped down in the west, and the image that Thorin described on Beorn's wall lay before her eyes. It was exactly as Thorin had described it; fire and ice, meeting as one.

They remained on the lake for two more days, before they drew in to the western bank of the river mouth and disembarked. Here they were met with the ponies that had been sent for them to use, enough for each dwarf and Bilbo. There was no horse waiting for Alana, for she had agreed with Thorin that she would scout ahead and meet them at Dale, so long as she didn't beforehand find anything to cause alarm.

As soon as her feet met the sodden ground of the riverbank, she shared a sharp nod with Thorin, pulled out the bow she had been supplied from the armoury of Laketown, and darted ahead. The plan was for the dwarves to collect their fresh supplies and gather them together, and then sort out the provisions that they didn't need. These were to be returned to Esgaroth post-haste. The dwarves would then settle for the night by the river, and continue in the morning.

Alana moved swiftly through the barren land in a half-crouch, her eyes scanning the ground for any sign of disturbance. Here and there were dotted the hoof-prints of deer, and the little feet of what were most likely rabbits or hares, but there were no other signs of life. Certainly, there was no suggestion that their orcish hunters had managed to overtake them during their two week long respite. Though this was good news for their progress, it made Alana concerned, wondering what could draw the orcs away from their hunt.

It wasn't long before the dark became too deep for Alana to see ahead, so she settled against the dried trunk of a lone ash tree and spent the night wrapped tightly in her thick cloak, trying to fend off the bone-chilling wind that came down from the mountain peak.

When the morning came she went forth again, remaining low to the ground and carefully scanning the mud for prints. As she moved the land became barren and desolate, with little grass, and eventually there were no trees or bushes to be seen.

It was at long last that she came to the crest of a hill, and down below she saw the skeletal remains of the city of Dale. The houses were crumbling, with gaping holes in the roofs and rubble in the empty streets. Even the palace's dome roof had caved in, leaving it open to the elements. In the shadow of the mountain it seemed devoid of everything that once gave it life – where before its presence next to the greatest dwarf kingdom of Middle Earth gave it power and beauty, now the city's emptiness seemed only more haunting to bear witness to.

It was upon this ledge that Alana waited for the rest of the company, eyes scanning the far horizon, where she clapped eyes on the front entrance of Erebor for the first time. Above the great doors was a balcony, and from that came a steady flow of pale smoke. Alana knew with absolute certainty, in that moment, that Smaug was most certainly alive within those halls. And somehow, they – a group of thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a human woman – were going to slay the beast.

As she stood staring at the ruin of Dale, a potent dread began to settle in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

The dwarves met her a little before midday, their mounts growing agitated in the presence of the mountain. They tossed their heads and shuffled their feet nervously as they were pulled to a halt, and the company dismounted. Thorin moved to stand on Alana's right, while the rest of the company fanned out around the two, staring down at Dale and, in the distance, Erebor.

"What is this place?" Bilbo's voice was strained as it broke the silence of their surroundings, and Alana glanced over at him from her place above everyone else's heads. He had grown pale, as if only just realising the scale of the destruction Smaug could cause.

Balin, who was stood beside Bilbo, answered solemnly, "It was once the city of Dale. Now it is a ruin. This, my dear hobbit, is the desolation of Smaug."

"The sun will soon reach its peak," Thorin noted with a concerned frown. "We must find the hidden door before it sets. Come on."

"Wait!" Bilbo called, and everyone paused to look at him. "Is... Isn't this the overlook? Gandalf said to wait for him here. On no account were we–"

"Do you see him?" Thorin cut in, more harshly than he had intended. He shook his head. "We have no time to wait upon the wizard." He glanced at the mountain, then at the dwarves around him. "We're on our own," he declared at last, before heading down what was clearly a familiar path with his pony in tow. "Come!"

* * *

As the day progressed, their hope at finding the hidden door dwindled. On the western side of the mountain there were few signs of disturbance, suggesting Smaug had never or rarely come this far from the main gate, and there was some grass for the ponies.

If the map was true, somewhere high above the cliff at the valley's head would stand the hidden door. They searched with no success for much of the day, but the darkness of evening was just beginning to blanket them when a shout from Bilbo had the company all raising their heads with renewed hope. The hobbit had found a staircase, and after following it upward there came traces of a narrow track that wandered on to the top of a narrow ledge. They followed this ledge, before the wall suddenly opened behind them and they turned into a little steep-walled bay. It was not a cave, and was indeed open to the elements, but the wall facing them was flat and smooth – an obvious sign of a stone mason's work. There was no joint nor crevice, nor any keyhole, yet there was not one among them who doubted that this was the door they had searched for.

With a light in his eyes that was seldom seen, Thorin took out the map of his father and recited the final line: "The last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."

But the sun continued to sink lower and lower, and with no sign of the keyhole things were becoming desperate. Alana felt herself holding her breath as the dwarves tried first simply pushing the door, then Nori was sent forth to find the hole using his skills as a thief, and then Thorin ordered that they break the door down.

"Thorin," Alana called, but he ignored her, eyes intent on the door. "Thorin!" This time, it seemed that her voice reached him. His eyes, wide with panic and fear, swivelled to meet hers. She sighed sadly. "It's no use," she murmured, and she saw his shoulders slump. "You won't get that door open using brute force."

"The lass is right," Balin uttered, just as quiet. "A powerful magic is keeping that door sealed. The only way to open it is with the key."

Thorin's mouth opened, and Alana braced herself for whatever he was going to say, but then his eyes flickered behind her, and before she could turn the golden glow of the sun disappeared.

Thorin's face crumpled, and he looked down at the map hanging limp in his hands. "The last light of Durin's Day with shine upon the keyhole," he whispered, voice choked up with unshed tears. "That's what it says." He looked up, his sorrowful, stormy eyes meeting Balin's. "What did we miss, Balin? What did we miss?"

Balin sighed. "We've lost the light. There's no more to be done. We had but one chance."

Alana had always felt a sense of wonder and curiosity when it came to the Lonely Mountain, but hearing Thorin's tales of its splendour and beauty turned that childlike awe into a deep-seeded love for a place she had never stepped foot inside. As the dwarves turned to leave – with Bilbo calling out to them, believing that it couldn't possibly be over – Alana stepped closer to the flat wall. It was shorter than she was tall, the stone becoming uneven when level with the height of her heart. With trembling arms Alana placed her hand against the rough stone, and then closed her eyes and leaned forward. The mountain wall was cold against her forehead, and it dug uncomfortably into her skin, but she didn't move.

Against her will, her mind began to conjure up images of all that could have been. She imagined the look on Thorin's face when he saw his home for the first time in so long; she imagined the great works that would happen to make the mountain secure again; she imagined the dwarves from the Blue Mountains flocking to the newly reclaimed Lonely Mountain; she imagined making her home among the dwarves, helping Thorin to guide them through the transition between their old homes and their new homes in Erebor. She even dared to imagine the day she and Thorin would marry, in great halls of dark stone, under the warm gazes of Thorin's people. She saw herself running through the mountain with a bright beam on her face, crashing into Thorin in an empty corridor and telling him through joyful tears that she carried his child. She saw them raising their children together, watching with pride as they learnt first how to walk and talk, then to read and write. She imagined them giving their children lessons on how to wield a blade. She saw herself growing old alongside him, watching the kingdom prosper under their rule, and then finally passing the crown onto their heir. And finally she imagined them lying on a bed – his hands cradled in hers, their foreheads pressed together – as they passed from this world, side by side.

A broken sob left her lips as the images shattered, leaving just an empty darkness in her mind. Against all hope, Alana had begun to believe that Erebor could become the one place in the world that she could see as a home. To see that dream ruined broke her heart, and it was made a thousand times worse by the knowledge that her pain would no doubt be overshadowed by that of Thorin, and Fili, and Balin, and just about every other dwarf who'd dreamed of a new home, or of an old one found again.

A pair of warm, calloused hands gently wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the wall and slowly spinning her around. Alana's tear-filled eyes clashed with the warming grey irises of the dwarf she loved so dearly, but she was surprised to see his joy had returned. Frowning in confusion, she turned her head back to the door, and saw, in the shadows created by the newly risen moon, the outline of a keyhole. After meeting Thorin's eyes again and letting out a disbelieving breath, Alana ducked down and plunged her hand into her boot, tilting her foot so she could worm her fingers under the insole of her shoe, before pulling the key out from its place in the hidden compartment she'd carved there for it. She looked up and smiled at Thorin, before offering the key to him.

With a slight smile on his lips, Thorin tenderly pulled her back into a standing position. His hand rested over hers, the key now between their fingers. Understanding flickered through her, and that was followed instantly by a flood of warmth so intense that Alana's knees began to shake. This was arguably the most monumental moment of his life, and the fact that he wanted to share it with her touched her beyond words.

Thorin directed their hands to the keyhole and slid the key into place, then turned it firmly. There was a distinctive click on the other side of the stone, and after giving the stone a strong heave, three long, straight cracks appeared and widened. A door, being five feet tall and three wide, swung open, revealing the dark halls of the mountain.

"Erebor," Thorin breathed, stepping inside his kingdom for the first time since Smaug's decimation of his people. "I know these walls. These walls... This stone..." He glanced back, his eyes meeting Alana's as she smiled weakly at him, too overwhelmed to really do anything other than try not to collapse in a mess of tears. Thorin's gaze then moved to Balin, who had stepped forward to follow his King inside. "Do you remember it, Balin?" Thorin asked, turning back to the walls of Erebor and pressing his hand against it. "Chambers filled with golden light."

"I remember," came the choked reply, and Alana felt herself place a hand on Balin's shoulder. He reached up and patted her hand as a silent thank you, before he finally crossed the threshold and entered the great dwarf kingdom. The others began to trail after, but Alana stayed outside, knowing that she had been granted a great honour in being one of those to open the door, but she was no dwarf, and thus she knew she should let the others go first.

It wasn't until Bilbo entered that she realised she wasn't alone. On either side of her stood Fili and Kili, staring with slack mouths into the darkness of their ancestral home.

She frowned. "Why have you not gone in?"

Both of them snapped out of it, and then turned to her with smiles on their faces. "Why have _you_ not?" Fili retorted mildly, not wanting to disturb the others.

"Because I am not a dwarf, and this is not my homeland. Not yet."

"You are the woman that Thorin has chosen to be his wife and Queen one day," Kili reminded her, equally soft in tone. "You should have been the first to enter after him."

Smiling, Alana shook her head. "It would have felt wrong."

The two Princes allowed her that, before glancing at each other and having a quick, silent conversation with their eyes. Alana was startled when she felt their hands grasping hers, and she looked between them with shock on her face. "It would be our honour," Kili began with a broad beam, "to enter the lands of our forefathers with you, **_irak'amad_**."

Alana faltered, before managing to squeeze out, "Believe me, the honour would be all mine."

And so Fili began to walk forward, leading Alana by the hand, who in turn led Kili. Those already inside parted to make space for the three, watching their expressions as they saw the halls of Erebor for the first time at close quarters. Alana glanced around her, seeing dull stone that was rather crudely cut, though the engraved image above the hidden door was precise and clear. This place was so different to the places she was used to – there were no trees, and no grass beneath her feet, and no open air. It should have made her uneasy, by all accounts, but in the presence of the people who'd she come to think of as her extended family she could only feel immense comfort. She felt like this was the place that she _belonged_.

" _Nan Belain! (By the Valar!)_ " she breathed, unaware she had spoken aloud at all. " _Ta naa mairëa! (It is beautiful!)_ "

"It gladdens my heart to know you think so, **_atamanel_** ," Thorin murmured, appearing at her side while Fili and Kili slipped away, letting Alana's arms fall against her sides. "But you have not seen the best of it yet."

Smiling down at him, Alana murmured in return, "I look forward to it."

* * *

 

It went against every instinct to remain where she was, knowing that she could jeopardise everything if she listened to her screaming mind and followed Bilbo into the depths of the mountain. There was a feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach, that told her everything was going to go very badly wrong, and there was nothing she could do to stop it if she was stuck here. But equally, she could catalyse the reaction by leaving. It was a stalemate; one she was thoroughly unhappy to be in the middle of.

"Alana," Kili piped up, sounding both irritated and amused, "if you pace any more, you're going to wear a hole in the floor." He and the rest of the dwarves were milling about on the bay outside the mountain, the heat from Smaug causing the inside to become uncomfortably warm while they were wearing the thick winter furs supplied to them by the men of Laketown. The rest of them were perfectly calm, showing no signs of being concerned for Bilbo's safety, and it was driving her mad.

Alana huffed as she sat heavily by the young dwarf's side, only to bring her knees up and rest her elbows on them, putting her chin on her crossed arms. "I don't know how you can be so calm," she admitted. "I feel like I should be going down there with him."

"So do I," he told her quietly. "But it would only increase the chances of detection. We all know how sneaky Bilbo can be."

"I don't like this," grumbled the Ranger, burying her face in her arms so her voice came out muffled. "What is it about this stone, anyway?"

Kili tilted his head to the side. "The Arkenstone is the crowning jewel of the dwarves," he stated simply, before continuing when she just sent him a blank look. "It's an heirloom of the Kings of Durin's Folk. The rightful possessor of the stone is considered – even without official coronation – to be King Under the Mountain. With the stone in hand, Thorin would be able to call upon the armies of the other dwarven kingdoms to kill Smaug."

Alana sighed. "And here I thought _we_ would be the ones to do that."

Kili chuckled, but there was a hollowness to the sound that did not escape her notice. "Maybe we will have to."

As if responding to his words, the entire mountain suddenly shook and shuddered, and Kili had to grab hold of Alana's arm to steady himself. They exchanged a concerned glance.

"What was that?" Dori asked, glancing around and clearly dreading the answer. "Was that an earthquake?"

"That, my lad, was a dragon," Balin informed them grimly.

From across the ledge Alana saw Thorin's face become pinched with worry, his eyes darting back to the door, and she could see the cogs in his head turning as he tried to decide what to do. They all flinched away from the door when a blast of hot air escaped, and a bright orange glow rose up from inside.

Ori glanced at his brothers. "What about Bilbo? Is he–?"

"Give him more time," Thorin cut in sharply, and Alana blinked, surprised at the coldness in his voice.

Balin frowned disapprovingly. "Time to do what?" he challenged. "To be killed?"

Thorin stared at the white haired dwarf for a long time, before stating, "You're afraid," in such a way that Alana almost thought she heard _disgust_ in his voice. But surely Thorin would not–

" _Yes_ , I am afraid," Balin snapped. "I fear for _you_. A sickness lies upon that treasure hoard – a sickness which drove your grandfather mad."

"I am not my grandfather."

"No," Alana murmured softly, and he turned his eyes to her. There was something wild about them, something dark and untamed. "But right now you are also not yourself."

Thorin frowned. "What do you–?"

"Is Bilbo not your friend?" she cut in. "Do you not care for his safety?"

The dwarf King looked affronted. "Of course I do!"

" _Then why in Mahal's name are you not going to pull him out of danger?!"_ Alana hadn't meant to shout, hadn't meant to even raise her voice, but for some reason she felt a raging fury in the pit of her stomach. "The Thorin I know would have gone after him ages ago! Yet we are forced to wait out here, not knowing whether he is even alive!" She sent him a hard glare that he responded to with an expression of utter bewilderment, clearly not expecting her to react so violently.

With a loud huff she headed towards the door, but Thorin caught her elbow as she went past him.  "Where are you going?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Alana stared at him, trying to work out just when things had changed so horribly. If this was how he was behaving without even seeing the gold... Gods, what would happen when he stepped foot inside the treasure room? She placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "You promised me you wouldn't give in to the whispers of the gold." His face cracked slightly, despair entering his eyes, and in his moment of distraction Alana pulled her arm from his grasp and entered the mountain, ignoring the startled calls from the others. Whether they decided to follow in her wake or not, Alana was not about to let Bilbo face the dragon alone.

She was relieved to hear footsteps soon after, and she paused to turn back, spying Thorin quickly striding to catch up with her. He took her hand when he was close enough, and met her eyes imploringly. "Don't let me fall," he whispered, a pleading edge to his tone. "Mahal, Alana, please don't let me fall as my grandfather did."

With a tenderness that sprung from nowhere, like her anger barely a minute before, Alana placed her hand on his cheek. "You know I will do everything in my power, but this is not a battle I can fight alone. You must also play your part, my love."

Thorin nodded, his face grim, before he tugged on the hand still grasped tightly in his own, and soon the two were running through the corridors of Erebor, heading down to the treasure room. They flinched back when another waft of hot air hit them, but persisted, and came at long last to their destination.


	30. Smaug's Demise

All the tales and pictures in her mind could not have ever come close to the sheer scale of the room. Mounds of gold several feet high filled a room larger than her entire village before it had been burned down. Most of what lay before her was gold in colour; coins and goblets and many other items piled high. Dotted amongst the gold were jewels and stones of red, blue, white, and every colour in between. For several seconds, all she and Thorin could do was stare at it.

They were broken from their trances when Bilbo came hurtling towards them, panting and heaving.

"Bilbo!" Alana cried, beaming at him and quickly scooping him into a hug.

"You're alive," Thorin breathed, relief crawling into his voice.

Bilbo shook his head. "Not for much longer. We have to move."

"Did you find the Arkenstone?"

"Thorin..."

He looked over at her, seeing the caution in her eyes, and winced upon realising he'd spoken without thought. Those voices in his head were clearly far more compelling than he had implied back in Rivendell. Thorin shook his head, as if to clear it. He turned back to Bilbo. "Are you hurt, Master Burglar?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine. But Smaug–" He cut himself off, eyes widening in horror and fear, and his two companions turned to follow his gaze. Smaug was enormous, his wings stretching as wide as a palace was high, with red-gold scales and a pale underbelly. A light shimmering showed where gems and gold had wedged themselves between his scales while he slumbered amongst the hoard. His eyes glowed, as if lit from within, and his face was tight with fury.

The rest of the dwarves suddenly appeared, weapons drawn, and stopped in front of their future sovereigns.

A weighted silence fell over the room as the dwarves stared at Smaug, and he stared back.

Then, when his chest began to glow with orange light, the dwarves turned and fled. They tumbled down the steep slope created by the closest pile of gold, rolling to a stop by a small doorway and quickly rushing through it. Alana was shoved in by Thorin, who entered after her. They both stumbled forward when the force of Smaug's flames hit them, but while Alana was mostly protected, Thorin's back was facing the flames directly. Cursing, the two entered the next room, Thorin quickly abandoning his flaming coat.

He didn't stop before uttering a solemn, "Come on," to his company, and the group moved onwards once more. Thorin lead the company along paths and over bridges that were clearly familiar to him, and the rest followed without protest. Alana fell to the back of the group with Kili, both of them having taken out their borrowed bows in preparation for a desperate attempt to slay the dragon should they be spotted.

They moved as silently as they could, their footsteps quieter than even the sound of their breathing, and quickly came across a large open space. Thorin paused and peered out, looking for any sign of the dragon, but in the deep dark of the mountain he couldn't be seen.

Dori glanced hopefully around. "We've given him the slip."

Dwalin shook his head. "No, he's too cunning for that."

"So where to now?" Bilbo asked, and everyone turned to Thorin and Balin, who knew the kingdom best of everyone.

"The western guardroom," Thorin decided after a brief pause. "There may be a way out."

But Balin shook his head. "It's too high. We'll never make it up."

"It's our only chance," Thorin stated calmly, and by the long breath the white haired dwarf released, it was clear he knew the truth in these words. "We have to try."

With that, they began edging forward again, eyes peeled for any sign of Smaug. About halfway across the bridge came the clatter of falling coins, and Alana swallowed when she tilted her head up and saw Smaug above them, crawling almost as silently as them over the strong dwarven bridges. Thorin held out a hand and gestured them forward, and the company continued on, somehow managing to escape Smaug's notice.

The western guardroom was a long trek from where they had started, mostly involving long flights of stairs and silent, empty corridors. Alana had returned to the front of the group, walking alongside Thorin and offering her silent support and encouragement. He seemed to understand, because he took her hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze, which she didn't hesitate to return. They continued on with their fingers entwined, taking comfort from one another as they moved further through the place that was to become their home should they succeed. Alana glanced at him in the corner of her eye, absorbing the confidence in his stance with her eyes, and she couldn't help but see those images in her mind again; the ones of their future together. It almost seemed like that future was a possibility again, even with the monumental obstacle in their path.

Thorin suddenly tugged her down a small, narrow corridor, and then turned one last corner before freezing where he stood. Alana let out a shaky gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth as tears immediately sprung to her eyes. Before them were the bodies of dozens of dwarves – men, women and children alike – which were blackened with age. The stale, dusty air must have helped to preserve their bodies.

"That's it then," Dwalin said with finality. "There's no way out."

"The last of our kin," came Balin's soft, sad voice. "They must have come here in the aftermath, hoping against all hope." He let out a laboured sigh. "We could make our way down to the mines," he suggested as Thorin let Alana's hand fall by her side, stepping forward as he gazed out at the bodies of the people that had once been under his grandfather's rule. "We might last a few days down there."

"No." Thorin's voice was harsh, but underneath that could be heard his heartbreak and his sorrow. His guilt at failing to get these dwarves out before the way into and out of the mountain was blocked. He turned back to face them, his eyes flush with tears that he refused to allow to fall. "I will not die like this. Cowering. Clawing for breath. We make for the forges."

"He'll see us, sure as death," Dwalin pointed out.

"Not if we split up."

"Thorin, we'll never make it," Balin said, shaking his head. 

Thorin tilted his head to the side. "Some of us might. We'll split up and lead him to the forges. We kill the dragon. And if not..." His gaze met Alana's, which still held onto the haunted horror they had gained when she first set foot in this room. His eyes though... his eyes blazed with determination, a determination that he had always managed to inspire in her. This time was no different, and her eyes cleared and hardened, and she gave him a firm nod. Thorin smiled softly, and finished, "If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together."

* * *

 

Alana hated this plan, but at the same time she knew it was a necessary risk. Thorin was right – they couldn't just back down without giving their all. She herself refused to die today unless it was with a weapon in her hand.

They'd split into groups of two and three, and Alana was with Fili and Kili, taking a route across the tall bridges that was the longest of them all, as it meant going to the very highest levels of the mountain before coming back down. Thorin had hoped to utilise their archery skills should things go wrong – Alana and Kili would fire warning shots at Smaug to catch his attention if any other parts of the plan failed, and Fili was in charge of making sure they weren't reckless enough to end up in Smaug's line of fire; a concept which left Alana thoroughly affronted, though Kili accepted with a surprising amount of grace.

They were lucky, however, when Smaug fell for each of their traps without complications. When the dragon left their sight they rushed to the end of the bridge, coming to a large, wide staircase. They descended as quickly as they could, hearing the growls, snarls and roars of fury that Smaug released as he chased after their kith and kin. This only proved to make them increase their speed, barely setting their feet down before lifting them again, all but flying down the stairs.

"Do you have any idea what your uncle is planning after this?" Alana asked as they reached the end of the staircase, continuing to run along a wide, long corridor, before they took a sharp left, as instructed, and reached the next staircase.

"Not a clue!" Fili called back, his words punctuated by his heavy breaths. Dwarves were fast sprinters, but this was a greater distance than most would be comfortable with. Alana was also tiring, though she was dealing with it far better than the brothers.

It took them at least five more minutes – possibly as long as ten – before they arrived at the forges, panting and puffing, and they were the last to do so. The dwarf furnaces were at least seven metres high each, made of strong metal.

Dwalin shook his head. "This is never going to work," he grumbled, having apparently achieved what the other three had not, and had worked out Thorin's plan. "The furnaces are stone cold."

"He's right," Balin agreed. "And we have no fire hot enough to set them ablaze."

"Are... you... kidding?" Kili squeezed out between sharp inhales. "We're being chased by a _dragon_ , I hope you recall."

Thorin smirked at the oldest brothers. "He's not wrong." He glanced around, eyeing the large metal bars across the entrance to the forges. "All of you, hide behind those. I have an idea."

"I hope you're not going to insult the damn thing," Alana muttered. "He's already mad enough."

Thorin chuckled. "Just go, **_atamanel_**." Sighing, Alana followed behind Fili and then stood against her own metal pillar, praying frantically that this would work and that they wouldn't all be burnt to a crisp in the process. "I did not look to see you so easily outwitted," Thorin called from his place a few pillars away from her. "You have grown slow and fat in your dotage, slug!"

Smaug's furious snarl set her teeth on edge, and then a squeak left her lips when hot flames burst from Smaug's maw, whipping past her and singeing a few of the ends of her hair. As the fire receded there came a rush of hot air from in front, and Alana watched with awe as the first furnace as lit, and then proceeded to cause a chain reaction that lit all the others.

Alana almost leapt out of her skin when Smaug began battering his immense body against the metal columns, though being of dwarfish make they were incredibly strong, and did not immediately cave and collapse as they would have done had they been made by any other race. 

"Bombur! Get those bellows working!" Thorin's voice punctuated the air once more, but Alana barely heard anything else he said. Her eyes instead had fallen upon the forges, watching the bright blue flames as they rose high into the air. She had never seen forges of this scale before, and she was admittedly mesmerised. So focused was she on this area that she didn't notice Smaug's progress, and so she yelped when he finally broke into the room, one of the great columns landing only a few feet from where she had been frozen. She ducked when his great wing arced towards her, running out of the way before he could try to flatten her with it. She was lucky that his attention seemed to be solely on Thorin. The beast moved forwards, unable to fly in such a small space, but his intent was clear.

Thorin's eyes met hers from across the room, and even from so far a distance she could read the wordless apology in his eyes. Then he ran out in front of the dragon, who in turn growled and leaned his head down closer. His chest began to glow again, and when Thorin made no sign of moving Alana's heart jumped into her throat.

"Now!"

Thorin's yell made everything happen very quickly. From a platform high above their heads Bilbo jumped and grabbed a lever, a burst of water hitting Smaug and extinguishing the fire in his chest. He growled and writhed, the force of the impact throwing him into one of the forges, though he was quick to correct himself. He began advancing on Thorin again when a flash of blue flame hit Smaug's head, though the dragon was barely bothered by it. The mechanism above his head suddenly fell, heavy wire and buckets full of gold ore falling on top of the dragon, who was pinned down with a furious snarl. 

In the corner of her eye, Alana saw Thorin run towards a chain, yanking hard on it. The doors to the furnaces opened, and rivers of molten gold came streaming out. Thorin turned to her as Bilbo ran down to join them, all of them ignoring Smaug as best they could for the time being.

"Both of you, go through that door," he told them, pointing to a small archway to her right. "Keep running straight and up until you reach a wooden, double door. Go in there and–"

" _What?!_ Thorin–"

"Alana, please. Just this once, do this for me, I beg you. It leads to the tower of Ravenhill. It is where we kept the old ravens of Erebor before Smaug came. Some may still be there. Send word to Laketown that the dragon is awake – warn them he may be coming soon. With enough luck the birds will be swift enough to get there before him."

Alana pursed her lips, but then gave him a quick nod, flinching when the sound of snapping metal hit her ears. "You'd better come back to me alive," was all she said, before she turned tail and ran as fast as she could, Bilbo doing his best with his shorter legs to keep up. The corridor leading from the forges was dark, though there was enough light for them to see. They were now so deep in the mountain that the only light came from the forges' fire. Alana burst through the doors upon reaching them, out of breath from the climb up the stairs. She quickly ushered Bilbo in, and the two looked up to see three ravens perched on the beams above their heads, shuffling on their feet and clearly anxious in the presence of Smaug's fury. 

When the birds noticed them, they started eyeing the two with suspicion. Alana swallowed, then spoke. "We are here on the orders of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. He is the rightful King of these lands. He pleads that the swiftest in flight take a message to the leader of the town on the lake."

For a moment, nothing happened, but then the youngest of the ravens flew down and landed closer to them. "What message has he for the men of the lake?" it croaked, and Alana could not have been more relieved that it used the common tongue, rather than bird-speak (which very few people could understand, she not being one of them).

"Tell them that Smaug is coming, that they must evacuate the town immediately–"

"Tell them also to prepare their best archers for the arrival of the dragon," Bilbo cut in. Alana glanced at him, a frown on her face. "There is a hollow on his left breast that is weaker than the rest of him. Tell them that if they aim there, they may yet have a chance of killing him." He met her eyes and then stepped back.

Alana looked back at the raven and nodded. "Go now, with all the speed you can muster."

The raven didn't hesitate to spread his wings, flying swiftly out of the large window at the top of the tower.

Bilbo's small voice sounded from next to her. "Do you think he will make it in time?"

Alana blew out a long, laboured breath. "I don't know, Bilbo," she admitted. "I've heard tales of the ravens of Erebor – they are strong and resilient creatures, but they are also far smaller than a dragon." She glanced behind her, the rumbles and crashes suddenly falling silent. She met Bilbo's gaze again, and with a shared nod the two turned and headed back towards the forge room. The forges were still burning brightly when they returned, though Bombur was no longer working the bellows. In fact, the room appeared empty. There were large chunks of stone littered on the floor, signs of Smaug's destructive power, but the room itself was now empty of life. The gold that had once sat in the furnaces was no longer inside, the troughs built into the floor also empty.

"It's almost like it never happened," Bilbo murmured, looking around. "It's like..." He hesitated, glanced at her in the corner of his eye, then finished, "It's like we're the only ones alive in the whole world."

Alana didn't respond.

Instead, he stared at the room in front of her, from the huge flames pouring out of the furnaces, to the slowly rotating wheel that was being fed water (probably from the river) to keep it moving. The room was lit with a warm, orange light, the heat from the flames seeming to burn away the stale scent of dust that had existed before. She stepped forward, glancing around her, eyeing the discarded tools on the floor, the broken mechanisms.

Bilbo stared after her as she continued to wander through the ruin in a daze. "Alana?"

She took a moment to reply, and when she did there was an absence to her voice. "This is to become my home, Bilbo. This is the legacy of the dwarves of Erebor, and it is the place I am one day expected to rule over." She turned back, and he was surprised by the moistness in her eyes. " _How_  could I possibly be expected to rule over a place like this? The dwarves have such skill in their crafts. Their structures are angular and so different to what I am used to, but they are breath-taking nonetheless. How could I ever compete with such rawness? With such greatness?" She turned back, eyeing the room once more. "I am not a dwarf, Master Bilbo, and while I may at times act like one, I can never _be_  one. I will forever be unworthy of this place."

Bilbo pursed his lips, carefully thinking through his answer. "You doubt yourself too much, Alana." It was a simple phrase, but it was enough to draw her attention back to him. His face was set, a determined fire burning in his eyes. "You have performed many great deeds in your short life, have gained the same honours as those who have outlived you by a hundred years. You joined this quest to fight for a place that is not your home, that you had not seen before, simply because it was the right thing to do. If this place, and the dwarves who come to live here, do not find you worthy of it, then that is no fault of yours; it is theirs, for not allowing themselves to see you as you are. If someone as stubborn and unwieldy as Thorin can come to love you as deeply as he does, then there is no place you could ever not be worthy of. This is his kingdom, and while you have his heart, so is it yours. Whether or not you have dwarfish blood in your veins doesn't matter. What matters is simply who you are inside."

Alana smiled tearfully at him, then nodded. "Thank you, Bilbo."

Bilbo beamed in return, rocking on his feet, before he looked around. "Well, I suppose we ought to go and find the others."

Chuckling, Alana nodded her agreement. "With how large an area we have to search, we may struggle."

"There's always the treasure room," he suggested. "That room is enormous, not to mention it seems to be at the centre of the entire kingdom. If we stay there, I am certain the rest of the company will join us eventually."

"You are wise beyond your years, Master Hobbit," Alana noted with an amused quirk of her lips, all sign of her previous torment gone. "I think that is indeed an excellent plan."

Bilbo glanced around. "I don't suppose you... remember how to get there?"

With a wide grin, she told him, "I do, though it is the route Fili, Kili and I took to get down here, and it is long with many staircases. If we go back that way, it will be a tiring trip."

Bilbo shrugged. "At least it'll get us back. I remember only the first few turns on the path I took earlier, and I would much rather take the longer road and make it without trouble, than fail to remember the shorter road and get horribly, horribly lost."

"As you wish. In that case, it's this way." Alana led him back through the main entrance to the forges, which now lay in shambles, much like the rest of the room. She then took him through an open door, and they paused in front of one of the many incredibly long staircases she had promised.

Bilbo sighed when he saw it. "Well," he stated decisively, "let's get this over with. If I make it to the top without collapsing at least once, we can definitely say that all this travelling we've done in the last few months has had at least a little benefit to my life."

Smiling fondly down at him, Alana pointed out, "We are in no particular rush, though I know we both want to get back to the others as soon as we can. But since we don't know where they are, and we will end up waiting in the same room whether we take an hour or twenty minutes to get there, I suppose it makes little difference how quickly we make it back."

Bilbo nodded, looking relieved. "That's good to hear. I just hope your patience will last the whole way. Really, that is quite a daunting sight for one as little as me."

With another quiet chuckle, Alana patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, Master Baggins. If worse comes to worst, I can probably carry you back."

Bilbo flushed. "Now wouldn't that be embarrassing! No, I think I will at least try." And with that, he took the first step, and then the next, and soon the two of them were making steady progress back up towards the treasure room. They both prayed that they would indeed find their companions alive and well, and that they wouldn't be walking into the dragon's lair for a second time.

* * *

 

Never in his life had Bilbo been more grateful for someone's endless patience and kindness. He did indeed need to stop to rest several times on their journey back, and not once did Alana complain about it. Instead, she sat next to him and they made pleasant conversation, allowing him the chance to catch his breath, whilst also keeping their minds from worrying too much about the fact they had heard nothing of Smaug or the dwarves since a single impact shook the foundations of the entire mountain some ten minutes after they had first begun climbing. They had both frozen in their tracks when that crash had echoed through the corridor they had been walking along at the time, glancing at the surrounding walls and ceilings to ensure they weren't going to collapse on them, before continuing at a pace as calm as they could achieve.

Bilbo was not unaware of the fact that Alana's nerves were somewhat frayed, that she was incredibly concerned for the safety of their friends. As they walked she fiddled with the braid Thorin had placed in her hair and chewed on her bottom lip, and Bilbo believed it was most likely that she was unaware she was doing either.

In order to distract her from her thoughts, Bilbo asked the first question that came to his head. "Will you sing for me?"

Alana blinked, then sent him a bemused look. "Say again?"

"Will you sing for me? I've heard you singing before, when you think no one is listening, usually. You have quite a pleasant voice, if I may say, and I love to hear the songs of the elves. So... will you sing?"

She stared at him for a moment, clearly trying to work out where this question had come from, but then she evidently gave up, because she shrugged and turned forward again. Bilbo began to believe she wasn't going to sing at all, but then she opened her lips and the first note escaped.

 

" _O Gil-galad i Edhelchír  
_ _dim linnar i thelegain:  
_ _Im Belegaer a Hithaeglir  
_ _Aran ardh vethed vain a lain._

_Gariel maegech Gil-galad,  
_ _Thôl palan-gennen, ann-vegil;  
_ _A giliath arnoediad  
_ _Tann thann dîn be genedril._

_Dan io-anann os si gwannant  
_ _A mas, ú-bedir ithronath;  
_ _An gîl dîn na-dúath di-dhant,  
_ _vi Mordor, ennas caeda gwath._ "

 

There was a peaceful quiet that fell over them as she finished, neither having much else to say. After stopping to rest a further three times, this time still surrounded by silence, the duo finally made it back to the treasure room.

They were comforted by the absence of Smaug, though they were made uneasy by the fact there was no one else there either. Still, they kept to their plan, moving to a place in the very centre of the room that could be seen from almost every pathway that led elsewhere in the mountain. There they sat, Bilbo glancing up at each of the pathways, hoping to catch sight of someone. Alana, however, simply stared into the open air around her, gaze distant.

Like this they remained for a long time, the silence ever their faithful companion. They did not dare to move to search for their friends, for fear that they would lose them even more. No, they just sat there, and waited.


	31. The Temple of Mahal

It was only a few minutes later that steady footsteps broke the stillness around them, and Bilbo and Alana tilted their heads up to witness as Thorin entered the treasure room, his face unreadable.

When he clapped eyes on them, something about him instantly shifted. A heavy weight on his shoulders seemed to lift, and the dragging of his feet disappeared. It was replaced by a joy that seemed to affect his every move, and he rushed down to meet them.

He was smiling when at last he came to a halt, Bilbo and Alana having gotten to their feet to meet him. "I am glad to see you alive," he told them. "We grew worried when you did not re-join us."

"We had to take the long route up," Bilbo explained with a smile. "Not to mention there are far too many stairs in this place to make the trip without stopping for rest."

Alana hummed. "I'm sure I could have managed," she said teasingly, grinning when Bilbo shot her a frustrated look.

"Where are the others?"

Thorin jerked his head in the direction he had come from. "They are up on the watchtower to the west. Smaug made his way to Laketown, as I feared, though perhaps the men were able to prepare first. The beast has fallen."

"Dead?" Alana repeated, eyes widening in shock. "By the Valar! I didn't think it would be possible."

Thorin sent her a warm smile. "You have yourself to thank, for warning them first."

Shaking her head, Alana placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "It is the young hobbit who should be thanked. His keen eyes detected a weakness in Smaug's scales. Without that information, there's a likely chance the result could have been different."

Thorin tilted his head to the side. "Then on behalf of us all, I thank you, Master Baggins."

Bilbo waved him off immediately. "I only did what I could to help. In the end, it wasn't me who killed him." He smiled at them both, before telling them he was going to see the others.

Thorin turned back to Alana, his countenance softening even more, and he closed the gap between them. His hands came to cup her face, and he brought her lips down to his, and the world fell away. The kiss was slow and soft, comforting her in ways that words never could. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and all that was left was just... Thorin. 

He pulled away first, only far enough to inhale sharply, their noses still brushing, before he sighed. Her forehead came to rest upon his, their breaths mixing as they were finally able to accept that this was _real_. That the tyranny of Smaug had ended, that they were free to reclaim Erebor as their home. Thorin let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan, before whispering, " ** _Men lananubukhs menu_** ," over and over. He swore under his breath, then kissed her again. This time there was a fire behind the kiss, a passion and a desperation that Alana all but drowned in, soaking up his intense emotions and trying to calm him with her own gentle caresses.

They pulled apart slowly, not wanting the moment to end but knowing it had to. The mountain was theirs, but there was still so much work to do.

A low caw brought their attention skyward, and the raven she and Bilbo had sent off to Laketown returned. He landed on a platform a few feet from where they stood and waited patiently for the chance to speak, and Thorin did not take long to address him.

"What news of the outside world?"

"There is much, my Lord Thorin, son of Thrain. The dragon lies dead in the lake, and thus these halls and the treasure within are yours ‒ for the moment. But many are gathering hither beside the birds. The news of the death of the guardian has already travelled far and wide, and the legend of the wealth of Thror has not been lost to time; many are eager for a share in the spoils. Already a host of the elves is on the way, and carrion birds with them are hoping for battle and slaughter. By the lake, men murmur that their sorrows are due to the dwarves; for they are homeless and many have died, despite the efforts of you and yours to have them flee before the dragon struck. Their town has been destroyed, and they too think to find amends from your treasure, whether you are alive or dead."

Thorin's brow furrowed deeply, and Alana saw a shadow come to settle across his face. "This gold belongs to none but the dwarves. And we will not give any to thieves or those who court war while we are alive. If you would, I ask that you bring us news of any that draw near. Also I would beg of you, if there are enough of you that are still young and strong of wing, that you would send messengers to our kin in the mountains of the north, both west of here and east, and tell them of our plight. But go especially to my cousin Dain in the Iron Hills, for he has many people well-armed, and dwells nearest to this place. Bid him hasten!"

"I will do what can be done," came the bird's simple reply, before he flew off again.

Thorin met Alana's gaze, and he saw for the first time the expression on her face – one of displeasure, with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. He exhaled slowly. "You think I made a mistake." It was posed more as a statement than a question.

Alana hesitated, then slowly shook her head. "No, I think you made the right choice, given the circumstances. At least with the elves. Handing gold over under threat of force would only encourage others to do the same later. No, on that, I agree with you. But the raven is right about the people of Esgaroth – they are homeless now, and they will likely be seeking shelter. It wouldn't surprise me if they ended up making the trek to Dale. Perhaps we shouldn't give any gold to them directly, because if we do we won't know if it's being used practically, but..." She bit her lip, hesitating in the face of his hard expression, but eventually deciding she had already said too much just to stop. "I think they are right, in a way, that it is our fault Smaug destroyed their homes. The least we can do in return is make sure Dale is made suitable for people to live there. It's almost the dead of winter – they won't survive long without proper shelter."

"You would have us send them _our_  gold?"

"No," she repeated firmly. "I would have us  _use_ the gold to pay for materials to repair the city. That way we know exactly what the gold is being used for, and in the process, we can start to build up relations with the men of the lake. Perhaps, once trade in the north starts up again, we can discuss with them a way to repay this kindness." Alana internally winced. She didn't really like the idea of asking to be repaid, especially from people who already had so little to give, but she knew she had to ensure the dwarves weren't losing too much.

Thorin eyed her for a moment. "Perhaps you are right," he allowed. "But I will talk of treaties and agreements only with the men, and if they choose to ally themselves with the elven King then I shall give them nothing so long as that allegiance stands." He glanced around at the gold, and Alana found herself doing the same, wondering idly how long it took for Thror to amass such a hoard. "But first," he murmured, as if to himself, "we must find the Arkenstone. I will not truly be King without it."

"And what makes you so sure of that?" Alana asked, a tone of caution to her voice.

Thorin met her eyes, and he smiled. "Worry not, **_atamanel_** , my mind is clear. But that stone binds the Seven Kingdoms together, in a way. There are some of my kin who will not answer to any call I make, whether it be dire or not, unless that stone is in my possession. We must find it, and I can put it back in its place in the throne."

"Provided, of course, the throne has not been destroyed by a dragon," the Ranger pointed out, eyes swimming with amusement.

Thorin chuckled. "Well, now you mention it, I _do_  believe I saw a rather large claw-shaped gouge in the right side when I passed it earlier."

Rolling her eyes, Alana pecked him lightly on the cheek. "We should, for now, focus on the men and elves heading for the mountain. Because, Arkenstone or not, that is something that _will_ happen."

Thorin hummed. "Yes, you're right. But first, I think we should head deeper into the caves. We have little food left in our packs, and we are far from civilisation. We shall see what we can find that is still edible, and then we shall rest for the night. Our work begins at first light."

Alana grinned at him. "If that be the case, my King, then _you_  can be the one to wake your nephews at the crack of dawn."

"Oh, don't worry, I've had many years of practice at doing just that. They know better than to attempt to get away with sleeping in."

"There's a story behind that, isn't there?" Alana queried, arching an eyebrow.

Thorin smirked. "Perhaps, perhaps not. If there is, you shan't be hearing it from me."

Alana groaned and rolled her eyes again. "Oh, you're insufferable!"

"Something I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to, **_melhekhinhul_** ," he teased with a cheeky grin and a wink. "I hope you're prepared for a challenge."

Alana scoffed. "As if I didn't know what I was getting myself into the moment I agreed to court you," she grumbled, then smiled and swooped down once more, pressing a swift kiss on his lips that left them both wishing for something more substantial. She decided to let him wallow, however, and so pulled away with a smirk tugging at her lips. "Now, let's go and get the others. As you have said before, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow, and I for one have no desire to do it having had no sleep beforehand."

* * *

Despite her earlier words, Alana found herself unable to sleep. She tossed and turned, the material of her cloak being more than sufficient in creating a soft surface for her to rest on, but she couldn't calm her mind enough to drift into the same slumber that had captured her companions so swiftly.

With a heavy sigh, Alana sat up, and after glancing at her friends she stood, leaving all her weapons except those she never took off with the others. She moved away from the lit area, picking up an old, unlit torch. She held it against one of those already burning, and once her torch was flaming merrily she began to explore deeper into Erebor.

As she wandered she came across the throne room, though to call it a 'room' would be a gross understatement. It, much like the treasure room, was enormous. Statues of dwarves brandishing great axes lined the wall, along with huge, angular columns stretching from floor to ceiling. In the centre of it all stretched four bridges, meeting in the centre of the hall and rising up onto a dais. On top sat a single stone throne, with – as promised – a large chunk missing, in the unmistakable shape of a dragon's claw. There was a small, round indentation above the throne itself, and Alana guessed that this was where the Arkenstone was supposed to sit.

She didn't linger long in that room, having been overwhelmed by the sudden realisation that, one day, this would be her kingdom to rule alongside Thorin. She had always known that, of course, but when in the presence of the grandeur and sheer size of the kingdom, it became more than a little daunting.

Alana ventured deeper and deeper into the mountain, coming across a long, wide corridor that could almost be called a street, lining which were many wooden doors. Upon opening a few, she discovered she had come across the houses of those who used to live here. Most were still in a half lived-in state, with crockery on the table bearing decayed, uneaten meals that had no doubt been hurriedly abandoned when Smaug came. Besides a few crumbling walls, the houses were surprisingly all still stable enough to be lived in.

Next, she came across a large hall with enormous but tattered banners stretching across the walls, each a dusty, deep blue and embroidered with the unmistakable crest of the line of Durin. This room, besides the obvious invasion of dust, was untouched. Alana had entered by a side door, and had come almost immediately upon another set of two thrones, though each was far less eye-catching than the one in the main throne room. Based on the wooden tables and benches along the side of the room and the large empty space in the middle, this was a place for celebrations – the tables for feasting, the empty space for dancing. The main doors leading from the room could have contended with the main gate for size, though they were perhaps a little smaller. Through these she exited the room, finding herself once more in an abandoned corridor.

Alana finished her journey in another fairly large room, though this time it wasn't ridiculous in its size. The room was punctuated by square pillars – they were simple in comparison to those closer to the surface, but they were more decorative in how they were carved, with dwarfish runes all up their sides. Alana spotted a copper dish full of coals, and quickly lit the coals with her torch. She did the same with three others, until the room was bathed in a warm, orange glow.

At first, she wasn't sure where she was, nor what the significance of this particular room was. Then she moved slightly, and the pillar that was next to her no longer blocked her view. Before her, stretching at least ten feet tall, was a stone statue of a man. No, she realised, not a man. A Vala. His identity could not be mistaken – this was Aulë the Smith. In his hand he grasped a great hammer, and a beard of stone flowed down to his waist. He was lightly armoured, his chest bare of clothing, with heavy boots on his feet and bracers on his wrists. At his feet appeared to be offerings – gems and precious stones, all gathering dust.

Placing her torch in a metal ring on the side of one of the pillars, she approached the effigy and kneeled in front of it, bowing her head. She had no thoughts in her head to convey to him, nor did she pray at first. She simply remained silent, her head peculiarly blank, and somehow managed to draw comfort from the stone carving, as if some of Aulë's presence was locked inside it. Her eyes fell upon the gems lying at the statue's feet, and she was reminded quite abruptly of Thorin, and how close he was to being consumed by a lust for gold. It was like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, and while she'd been able to catch him before he fell so far, she didn't know how long she could continue to do so.

Alana finally had her prayer, her question, and she lifted her eyes to gaze up at the stone carving. In a weak voice, she asked, "How do I save him?"

No answer came, though she didn't expect to receive one. Still, she truly believed that, somewhere, Aulë was listening to her, and that was enough for her to draw a measure of comfort. Even if her prayers went unanswered, it did not mean they went unheard. Still, she knew she needed to think of a plan before Thorin was beyond her reach.

Alana rose to her feet, picked up her torch again, and began to wander back towards where the dwarves were likely still slumbering. As she walked, she pondered, and so blissfully absorbed within her thoughts was she that it wasn't until she reached the hall where her companions slept that she noticed the faint whispers in her ears.


End file.
